Oblivious
by Ari-Ana Zanne
Summary: COMPLETE! (romance scenes and language) After graduating from Hogwarts, Harry goes on a secret mission for the Ministry, & Ron and Hermione plan their wedding. But the plotting of a bitter squib, with the help of a Dark Wizard, might ruin everything.
1. Chapter 1: Last Day of School

Oblivious  
by Ari-Ana Zanne  
  
Author's notes: ~H~ means Hermione's point of view. -H- means Harry's point of view. -R- means Ron's point of view. The story is in present tense. I will indicate when the flashbacks are. Thoughts will be in singular quotation marks ('), and things that should be italicized, such as incantations and emphatics will be in asterisks (*).  
Thank you. And please review so I'll know if my stuff is any good!  
  
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters and the magic, but I own the plot.  
  
Chapter 1: Last Day of School  
  
~H~  
  
Today is the last day of classes for us seventh years. Almost every teacher, excluding Snape, of course, is allowing us to have freetime, to say our goodbyes and enjoy each other's company before graduation, and our leaving Hogwarts. I should be excited about finally starting my life in the wizarding world, living on my own and beginning my career. I've had so many fun, exciting times here at Hogwarts, and I've made so many friends, two of which I hold dear to my heart  
  
Harry Potter, the infamous "Boy-Who-Lived," known by every witch and wizard in the world for defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort, not only when he was a student here at Hogwarts, but when he was only one year old.  
  
And Ron Weasley, the fiery-headed, blue-eyed arachnophobic, the youngest son and second youngest child of the Weasleys, best friend of Harry, who stood by his side through thick and thin and all their many minor and major squabbles . . . my first and only love.  
  
I don't know when I first realized it. It could have been in our first year on the Hogwarts Express when Ron, with a smudge of dirt on his nose, was trying to turn his rat, Scabbers, yellow with a spell his brother George had given him. It could have been in second year when he took the brunt of a spell that he had cast in my defense directed at Malfoy that backfired, which made him burp up slugs for hours. It could have been in third year when we put our differences aside and pulled together to try to save Buckbeak. It could have been in fourth year at the Yule Ball when I caught him, through saddened, jealous eyes, watching Viktor Krum, the Triwizard Tournament champion from Durmstrang, and I dance. It could have been in fifth year when I became fiercely jealous at the news that Ron was going out with Parvati Patil. It could have been in sixth year during our first real kiss. It could have been in seventh year when he risked his life to protect me against Lord Voldemort in the battle that finally rid him of the face of the earth forever.  
  
Whenever it was, I know now that no other man, Muggle or wizard, could ever complete me like Ron does. I know that, no matter what it takes, however long I have to wait and pray, I will end up with him.  
  
  
-R-  
  
Last day of school! No more McGonagall getting on to Harry and me -- or is it "Harry and I"? I'll ask Hermione later -- for being late; no more Snape breathing down my neck as I sweat over my cauldron; no more Sprout and her nasty bugger Mandrakes; no more Trelawney and her mad death omens! No more books, reports, essays, homework, or teachers!  
  
Sure, I *sound* happy, but I'm not. Even with all those annoyances, plus some, I am going to miss this place. It was here that I found my best friend, here I grew so much closer to my little sister, here I matured from the freckle-faced little first year into what I am today . . . here I discovered the meaning of love.  
  
Love is magical. It can't be summoned by a charm, concocted in a potion, or cast by a spell. At least, not true love. True love is a magic all its own; it takes the two on a roller coster ride through bliss and sorrow, trust and suspicion, excitement and monotony. Love always conquers all. In fact, wasn't it Harry's mum's love that saved him from Quirrell and Voldemort in first year?  
  
There are so many old adages about love, and every single one of them is true:  
  
You do crazy things when you're in love.  
  
You never know what love is until it breaks your heart.  
  
You can't appreciate real love until you've been burned.  
  
You don't know how much something means to you until it's gone.  
  
(Deep stuff, huh? That's what I get for being around Hermione; she's rubbed off on me!)  
  
Sure, she can infuriate me, provoke me, annoy me more than anyone else I know, my family included. But with just a single glance, the softest touch, she can make the whole world disappear; she is the only source of light in the darkness in which I live.  
  
Being friends with Harry has given me so much courage that I'm going to do something really bold.  
  
After graduation, I'm going to ask Hermione Granger to marry me. 


	2. Chapter 2: First Kisses

Chapter 2: First Kisses  
  
~H~  
  
The graduation ceremony has just ended. Everywhere I look, I see the crying faces of those with whom I've spent the past seven years with: Parvati and Padma Patil, Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Justin Finch-Fletchey, Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson; even Draco Malfoy and his thugs Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle have the appearance that they're holding back some form of emotion.  
  
Finally, I spot Harry and Ron.  
  
"Ron!" I call to them. "Harry!"  
  
They see me and push through the throng toward me. Harry reaches me first, and I lock him in a tight embrace.  
  
-H-  
  
Near the end of fifth year, I started to develop a crush on Hermione. Maybe it was just hormones, but began to see her as a girl, a very pretty girl, and not just my best friend. So, over that summer, I built up the courage to ask her out, which I did after our sixth year start-of-term banquet.  
  
*Flashback*  
  
I pulled her aside as everyone filed out of the Great Hall and headed towards their dormitories.  
  
"What is it, Harry?" she asked, full and content from the banquet.  
  
I locked my eyes on my feet and mumbled, "Wilugoume?"  
  
"What?"   
  
I looked up, took a deep breath, and asked more clearly, "Will you go out with me?"  
  
She was taken aback at first and seemed to ponder my question. But she eventually smiled and said, "Yes, Harry. I would love to."  
  
I couldn't hold in the great sigh of relief that escaped my lips. "Great. So . . . I'll see you around?"  
  
"Yeah," she said, planting a kiss on my cheek and turning to join the crowd.  
  
"Great," I said again in a whisper, falling in line with Ron, who was hanging his head and not looking at anyone.  
  
"Ron?" I said as we climbed the stairs to our dormitories.  
  
"Yeah?" he responded sullenly.  
  
"What's wrong with you? You've barely said a word all evening. You usually talk my ear off about how Fred and George blew this up or how Per--"  
  
"It's nothing!" he said forcefully, looking up to me with fire in his normally cool blue eyes. He changed into his pajamas and got into bed. "It's nothing. Don't mind me."  
  
I thought I detected a hint of sarcasm in that comment, but I shrugged it off and went to sleep.  
  
During the next couple of weeks, things between the three of us seemed to become more and more uncomfortable. I felt a kind of tension coming from Ron whenever I was around him; it was worse when Hermione was with us, too. Hermione and I had a talk about how Ron seemed to have more of a problem with us dating than he would say. We felt that it wasn't worth it to ruin our friendships over, so we eventually called it quits. But that wasn't the only reason my dating Hermione didn't work out.  
  
~H~  
  
Kissing Harry was like kissing my brother! The first, and ultimately last, time had been a few weeks into the school year. He took me aside just after our last class of the day to talk.  
  
"So, how are things?" he asked nervously, glancing between me and the floor.  
  
"Good," I said, trying to meet his darting eyes.   
  
'If this works out,' I thought to myself, 'Mum would be pleased! She may only be a Muggle, but she knows of Harry's importance in the wizarding world. I would be Mrs. The-Boy-Who-Lived!'  
  
Finally, I grabbed his face and forced him to look at me. "Harry, what's the matter with you?"  
  
His emerald eyes locked onto mine, and he raised his hands to cover mine where they rested on his face. He leaned in and met my lips in a soft kiss. Immediately, I felt an odd sensation come over me. It's not that it wasn't enjoyable; it just didn't quite feel right. There was no chemistry there, other than the familial chemistry that had long since been there.  
  
When he pulled back, I could see in his eyes that he felt that same as me. He lowered his head, uttered a quiet, "See you, Hermione," and walked away.  
  
I watched after him and waited until he turned a corner to run off in the opposite direction, thinking, 'I gotta find Ron.'  
  
-R-  
  
As I watched Hermione cradle his face in that tender way that I had long fantasized her cradling my own face, I shuddered slightly underneath Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Then, when he leaned in to kiss her, I felt a stab of violent jealousy as my heart was torn in two. Hot tears of fury formed behind my eyes.  
  
Sure, I felt bad about spying on Harry and Hermione, but I needed to know, needed to be certain.  
  
Seeing them kiss was good enough for me.  
  
When they left, I allowed the Cloak to fall from my head and land in a pile at my feet, and I stood dumbfounded. Coming back to reality, I picked it up slowly and carried it to the boy's dormitories, placed it back in Harry's trunk, and threw myself onto my bed, jerking my bed hangings closed and allowing myself to cry in my heartache.  
  
The following day, Hermione called to me in the hall right after Charms. "Oh, Ron! I've been looking everywhere for you." She ran up, a frantic look in her shining brown eyes. She seemed on the verge of tears.  
  
Despite my extreme pain at the very sight of her, I knew I couldn't just abandon her. I grabbed her shoulders, trying to calm her down and get her to tell me what the problem was. "What is it, Hermione?"  
  
"Oh, Ron, I can't find Crookshanks anywhere! I've looked all over the grounds, I've asked every teacher and student to keep an eye out for him, I've looked in all his regular hiding places, and he's nowhere to be found!" At this, tears began to leak out of her eyes.  
  
I hated to see Hermione cry, for those reasons more self-serving than the fact that she was one of my best friends. It made me feel important that she came to me before going to Harry. I took her hand instictively and said, "Come on, we've got a couple of hours before Defense Against the Dark Arts. Let's go look."  
  
After a thorough, hour-long search of the Hogwarts grounds, I finally found him, but it was a gruesome sight: it appeared that he had been attacked by a wild animal in the Forbidden Forest, as he was torn limb from limb, covered in blood. Since Hermione and I had split up about fifteen minutes into the search to cover more ground, she should have been on the other side of the grounds  
  
'What should I do?' I thought to myself. 'I can't let her see this. Maybe I can convince her that he just ran away and --'  
  
"Ron!" Hermione appeared on the horizon. "Have you found him yet?"  
  
I began to get frantic. She was fast approaching.  
  
'Think, Ron, think!'  
  
I ran from the sight in a desperate attempt to keep her away. "I didn't find him!" I yelled as I climbed the hill toward her.  
  
Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Why, Ron! Look behind you!" A broad grin broke out over her face as she took off in a run down the hill, right past me and toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest.  
  
She had apparently seen Crookshanks' bright ginger fur from the distance.  
  
"No, Hermione! Stop!"   
  
But it was too late.  
  
A blood-curdling shriek ripped through the cool, autumn air. I dashed down to where she stood, gazing down at a mutilated Crookshanks, intense fear in her wide eyes. She couldn't peel them away, as horrible as it was.  
  
I came to a stop behind her, put my hands on her shoulders, and turned her around, forcing her to look away. She fiercely embraced me, burying her face in my school robes, sobbing. I stroked her hair, rubbed her back, whispered reassurances. Finally, she calmed down enough to look up at me with watery eyes.  
  
My heart leapt within me as she locked her eyes on mine. But, as much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't do what my brain was telling me.   
  
'She's Harry's girlfriend! You can't, Ron, you just can't.'  
  
But there was something in the way she looked at me, something in the way her arms felt around me, something in the way time seemed to stop in that moment.  
  
She smiled suddenly, slightly, as if in nonverbal consent. Or maybe I just imagined it, but I could stand it no longer. I wiped a tear from her eye and stroked her damp cheek with my fingertips. She took in a slightly ragged breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were just screaming, "Kiss me!" Leaning down my head, I closed my eyes and met her lips in a soft, gentle kiss.  
  
There were instant sparks. It was so perfect, so right. An electric feeling coursed through me; there was a tingling feeling everywhere we touched. I knew that one didn't feel that way for just anyone. I had kissed a couple of girls in my time at Hogwarts, and none of them had ever made me feel this way.  
  
At first, she seemed somewhat reluctant, as if afraid, but as soon as our lips touched, she gave in and returned the kiss. Somewhat hungrily, it seemed. My arms tightened around her as I pulled her closer. I ran a hand through her hair, leaving it to rest on the back of her head, and began to deepen the kiss.  
  
Suddenly, after what seemed only a second, she jerked away with a gasp, as if she had just realized what she had been doing. She stared at me, with eyes that revealed her happiness, confusion, nervousness, and excitement. She pulled from my embrace, turned toward the castle, and ran away.  
  
I stood, stunned and motionless, watching after her, shocked at what had just taken place. Then a wide smile spread over my face.  
  
*End Flashback* 


	3. Chapter 3: Popping the Question

Chapter 3: Popping the Question  
  
~H~  
  
When Ron catches up to Harry and me, he seems somewhat nervous. I smile warmly and release Harry, reaching out to embrace Ron. He hesitates, but lets himself into my embrace. I want to hold him forever, to be with him until my dying day.  
  
But, we eventually have to let go. I hold him out at arms' length and say, "Look at you, Ron. You thought this day would never come. You thought you'd never graduate. But you did, and with honors!"  
  
He blushes fiercely, saying, "All thanks to you," as Harry and I smile.  
  
"Oy! Harry!" calls Seamus, motioning him over.  
  
"Be right there, Seamus!" Harry replies. He excuses himself after congratulating Ron and I and goes to join Seamus, Dean, and Neville.  
  
After Harry leaves, Ron fidgets horribly and shuffles his feet, carefully avoiding my eyes all the while.  
  
"Ron, what's wrong?"  
  
He takes my hand, quietly says, "Come with me," and leads me away from the crowd.  
  
As we walk, I survey the darkened grounds, admire the turreted castle, gaze into the sky dotted with spots of silver and the huge white ball that is the moon. The chattering of the other graduates dies away, enveloping Ron and me in a comfortable silence.  
  
When he finally stops, I see that he has led me to the lake. The moon is reflected in the placid, black water, there are fairy lights dancing in the trees, and a beautiful melody is softly playing from some invisible source.  
  
He gestures to a white stone bench and I sit down, gathering my graduation robes around me. He sits down, turns to face me, and immediately drops his eyes to his hands, which he is wringing nervously in his lap.  
  
I place my hand on them and he stops, looking up at me. "Ron, I've never seen you so nervous. What's the matter?"  
  
He diverts his eyes to the moon's reflection, looks back, and takes both my hands in his. Taking a deep breath, he begins.  
  
"Most men start these kind of speeches with, 'From the first time I saw you, I knew I loved you,' or something cliché like that. But it would be a lie if I said that. From the first time I met you, you angered me, provoked me, infuriated me, annoyed me more than my family and at times, even more than Malfoy. I've had some of my worst rows ever with you."  
  
Here, I blush slightly and lower my head. He lifts my chin and gazes into my eyes, his blue ones sparkling, all his nervousness forgotten.  
  
"But you also make me feel the most wonderful, most fulfilled, most satisfied, most complete. When I'm with you, I forget all the darkness in my life. You are my light, my life, my love."  
  
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, black velvet box. Grasping my left hand with one hand, he opens the box with the other. Inside the box is a beautiful wizard wedding token. It's like a ring, but it's enchanted so that once it's placed on the finger of the bride, and if it's a union meant to be, no one else but the two can see it. It becomes a part of the bride, never to be removed. Combined with the vows at the wedding ceremony, this is what binds the two forever. This wizard wedding token is a ring of golden light that surrounds a dazzling white gemstone that changes colors when the light reflects on it at different angles. Getting on one knee in front of me, he continues.  
  
"Hermione Ann Granger, will you accept my proposal and be my wife?"  
  
His eyes are locked unwaveringly on mine. The courage, the strength of character that he emits amazes me. I am shocked and at a loss for words, something that doesn't often happen to me.  
  
I open my mouth to answer, but no sound comes out, so I close it again. This happens a couple of times as I stare incredulously at Ron. He patiently waits, kneeling, smiling slightly, while I fumble around for an answer for him. I want to accept so badly, but the words just won't come out of my mouth.  
  
I begin to cry, throwing myself into his arms.  
  
  
-R-  
  
'Oh, Merlin! I've made her cry!' I think to myself as I hold her.  
  
"Hermione, please don't cry," I say into her hair. "I know it's sudden, and you don't have to answer right now. I just --"  
  
"Oh, Ron . . ."  
  
I lift my head and meet her eyes, still shining with tears. "I love you, Hermione. I always will. I may not be able to ever offer you a mansion or a fancy car. All I can offer is myself and my love."  
  
  
She wipes her eyes and smiles.  
  
"Ronald Arthur Weasley, I accept," she says finally, giggling despite herself. She holds out her arms, saying, "I'm all yours!"  
  
A great sigh of relief washes over me as I put the wedding token on her left ring finger and hug her.  
  
"I swear to you, Hermione," I whisper as we embrace, "you won't regret this. I'll do my damndest to make you the happiest woman, witch or Muggle, in the world."  
  
"I know you will," she whispers back, locking me in a passionate kiss.  
  
  
-H-  
  
*Flashback*  
  
The day after I kissed Hermione, she took me aside to talk to me. Luckily, the Gryffindor common room was fairly empty, so we found a corner far enough away from the few first years that they wouldn't hear. Hermione looked at me seriously and sighed.  
  
"Harry, this isn't working out. Yesterday when you kissed me, it just felt odd. I'm pretty sure you feel the same, but I just have to tell you how I feel. You're one of my best friends, Harry, and I love you to death. But nothing more is ever going to come of this but a great friendship, and I don't want to ruin that by trying to keep up this romance that isn't meant to be. I'm sorry, Harry." She stopped and gazed up at me cautiously, waiting for my reaction.  
  
I let out a huge sigh of relief and smiled. "Thank you so much! I felt the exact same, but I was afraid to tell you. What a relief to finally know --"  
  
"Harry," she said, lowering her eyes, "there's something else."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I just kissed Ron, not five minutes ago. And Harry," she says, looking to the wall opposite her and smiling dreamily, "it was the most amazing kiss! It was just so perfect . . ." She directed her eyes back to mine. "I think I love him."  
  
I smiled and took her hand. "Hermione, I'm so happy for both of you."  
  
"Oh, thank you for understanding, Harry! What would I do without you? I must go find Ron!" She jumped up from her chair, planted a kiss on my cheek, and ran from the common room.  
  
I smiled after her, thinking, 'It's about time those two figured it out.'  
  
*End Flashback* 


	4. Chapter 4: Going Home

Chapter 4: Going Home  
  
~H~  
  
It's the day after graduation, and we board the scarlet locomotive that is the Hogwarts Express, the last journey most of will will ever take on it. Ron, Harry, and I maneuver a compartment to ourselves. When the old witch with the lunch cart comes around, Harry buys the lot and splits it between the three of us. We laugh and joke, completely forgetting that when we exit the train, it may be years before we see each other again.  
  
"Hey, I got Ptolemy!" Harry exclaims, brandishing the wizard card from his Chocolate Frog.  
  
Ron grabs it from Harry's hand and says, "Finally!" They both start laughing; why, I don't know.  
  
When platform nine-and-three-quarters comes into view, I sigh deeply. Harry and Ron look and see the reason for my dismay. We all stand up and look at each other. I feel tears coming on, and I pull them both into a fierce hug. Soon we're all crying.  
  
I pull back and look at Harry: his mussed-up black hair, his round-rimmed glasses, his shining emerald eyes, his lightning bolt scar. "Harry, I want you to promise me a couple of things before you leave."  
  
"Sure, Hermione. Anything."  
  
"First, you will be in the wedding."  
  
"Best man!" Ron speaks up.  
  
"Best person. He's both of our best friend after all," I say.  
  
Harry laughs through his tears. "Done."  
  
"Second, you will keep in touch as often as humanly possible."  
  
"All right."  
  
"Lastly . . . do be careful out there." Tears prick my eyes again and I lower my head.  
  
"Oh, Hermione. Please don't cry." He pulls me into an embrace. "Hey, if I can defeat Voldemort almost ten times without getting killed, I think I can take care of myself."  
  
I smile and step back to allow Harry to say his goodbyes to Ron.  
  
  
-H-  
  
This is it. Goodbye. When I leave here, I'm going to have to leave immediately to report to the Ministry of Magic about my strictly confidential assignment. I won't be able to hang out with Ron, or even just visit very often.  
  
I stand, just staring, thinking of something to say. But what *is* there to say, after a seven year friendship? We've had our ups and downs, but we've grown so close. I'm going to have to just give all that up, and I can't even tell Ron why for fear of his own safety. . . .  
  
"All right, Harry?" he says, smiling through his watery eyes.  
  
"All right. You?"  
  
"All right." He looks out the window as the train slows to a stop and the steam blocks the view of the platform. Suddenly, he embraces me. "Do be careful out there, Harry. The wizarding world wouldn't be the same without you."  
  
"I will. And don't you go and kill Percy or anything. And take good care of Hermione."  
  
He laughs. "You got it." Pulling back, he wipes his eyes and exclaims, "Oy! I promised myself I wouldn't cry! And look at me, blubbering like a baby."  
  
Hermione puts a hand on his shoulder. "It's best to get it out," she consoles through her own tears, kissing him on the cheek. He nods and turns to collect his baggage and exit the train. Hermione and I follow to do the same.  
  
The platform is crowded with witches and wizards, come to collect and congratulate their graduates. It's a good thing that the first through sixth years got out for summer break two days ago, or else no one would have enough room to move their little finger. The three of us push through the crowd to find Ron's parents. Immediately we spot them by their bright red hair.  
  
"Here they come!" I hear Mrs. Weasley squeal.  
  
"Calm down, Molly," says Mr. Weasley, patting her shoulder and smiling.  
  
When we arrive, Mrs. Weasley grabs Ron and hugs him tightly, causing him to drop his bags and turn slightly blue in the face.  
  
"Mum," he sputters. "Can't -- breathe."  
  
"Molly, let the boy breathe!"  
  
A final squeeze, then she turns to Hermione, who is holding on tight to Ron's hand by now. Mrs. Weasley looks at the two of them and bursts into tears, pulling Hermione into a hug also.  
  
'Good old Mrs. Weasley.'  
  
"Oh, Hermione, dear! I'm so happy for you! I always knew!"  
  
When Hermione finally got away, she asked breathlessly, "Mrs. Weasley, how did you know? You can't see the wedding token."  
  
She smiled warmly and said, "A mother knows, dear. The sparkle in your and Ron's eyes is enough. I don't *have* to see the wedding token. Now come, all of you to the Burrow to celebrate!"  
  
My smile fades away and I say, "Erm . . . I have to leave immediately. I can't say why or to where, but I must."  
  
"But, Harry! You must come!" Mrs. Weasley cries.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I have urgent business for the Ministry."  
  
"Molly, don't pressure him," Mr. Weasley says, suddenly looking slightly darker.  
  
She frowns deeply, but says, "All right, since it's for the Ministry. But you *will* be in the wedding."  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. Hermione already forced me to promise," I say with a smile.  
  
Tears well up in the elder witch's eyes again and she pulls me into an embrace. "Be careful out there, dear."  
  
"I will, I promise."  
  
She releases me, and I pick up my bags, turn, and head toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and back into the Muggle world.  
  
  
-R-  
  
Once Harry disappears from sight, Mum turns back to Hermione and me, smiling a watery smile.  
  
"Well then, to the Burrow!" She heaves my bags along with Hermione's onto a trolley and hands it over to Dad. They begin to make her way through the now diminishing crowd of witches, wizards, and graduates, followed closely by Hermione and me.  
  
As we travel to the Burrow, I consider what Harry's secret assignment could be. I figure that Dad knows, by the look on his face when Harry mentioned it, and since he works for the Ministry. I could ask him when we get home. But whether or not he'll tell me is a different story.  
  
Hermione squeezes my hand and smiles at me, pushing the thought of Harry and his secret mission for the Ministry from my mind, if only temporarily. I return the smile, thinking, 'This is it, Weasley. You know how you have a tendency to screw things up. Don't screw this one up!'  
  
At the Burrow, I find that the whole family's waiting to congratulate me on graduating: Bill's hair is longer than the last time I saw it and he has a new acquisition: a nose stud; Charlie's short-sleeved shirt reveals a number of large burns on his arms; Percy brought along his own wife, Penelope Clearwater, who had been Ravenclaw in his class and is pregnant; Fred and George still live at home, while trying to get Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, their joke shop, off the ground; Angelina Johnson, a Gryffindor from the twins' year, is holding Fred's hand, as they've been together for a few years now; and little Ginny . . . who I notice isn't so little anymore.  
  
'Where did the time go?'  
  
When Hermione and I enter, I see that the whole house has been made up for the party. There are banners everywhere, the words "Congratulations on graduating, Ron!" flashing different colors. I see one in the corner that Fred and George obviously made, saying, "Happy Bar Mitzvah, Ickle Ronniekins!"  
  
"What's a Bar Mitzvah?" I ask them.  
  
They shrug and Fred says, "Some Muggle celebration."  
  
I roll my eyes.  
  
Mum pulls out her wand and flicks it, and suddenly all the banners are flashing, "Congratulations on your engagement, Hermione and Ron!" When everyone looks at them, their mouths drop open and they stare at me. As expected, Fred and George find their voices first, but surprisingly no smart remark comes from either of their mouths as they sincerely wish us well.  
  
After the initial congratulations, Mum insists that we all sit down and eat, in typical Mum fashion. She ushers us outside to enjoy the spring evening, since twelve people can't comfortably eat in our dining room. She pressures us into seconds and thirds, until we can eat no more for fear of bursting. When we're finished, she clears the empty plates with a swish of her wand. Angelina, Fred and George, Bill, Ginny, and Charlie Summon their broomsticks and go off to play Quidditch.   
  
"So, have you thought about the wedding, Ron?" Mum asks almost immediately afterward, trying to sound casual.  
  
'I knew it. . . .' "No, Mum, not yet. We just got engaged last night, and we were kind of busy today. Besides, I thought I'd let you, Hermione, Ginny, Penelope, and Angelina handle it, seeing as how you women love that sort of thing."  
  
Her eyes light up. "Oh, Ron, I would be honored to help plan it!" She turns to Hermione. "Have you ever been to a wizard wedding, dear?"  
  
"No, Mrs. Weasley, but I've always been interested."  
  
"Please, dear, call me 'Mum,' or at least 'Molly.' 'Mrs. Weasley' is just too formal for my future daughter-in-law to call me. . . . " Her eyes start to tear up.  
  
Dad reaches over and puts a hand on hers.   
  
"Oh, Arthur!" she says, looking up and starting to weep loudly. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry. But it's just going to be so beautiful! I can just see her now in her beautiful wedding robes. . . ."  
  
Hermione blushes slightly and looks down at her wristwatch, gasping. "Oh no! I told my mum I'd be home at 8:00. I have 30 mintues to travel all the way to Bristol!"  
  
"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Mum says cheerfully. "Arthur can hook up your parents' fireplace to the Floo network and you would be there in a jiffy! I'm sure they'll understand."  
  
"Well, I don't know. That type of thing tends to make them uncomfortable."   
  
"Oh, come on, Hermione," I say. "Would your mum rather you be late or on time using a perfectly normal -- well, maybe not to them -- mode of transportation?"  
  
She ponders it a few moments more, then finally agrees. "All right, as long as you go with me, Ron."   
  
"Done. I rather want to be there when you tell your mum the news. Dad, can you make the arrangements?"  
  
"Sure, son. It will take just a moment." 


	5. Chapter 5: Confrontation

Chapter 5: Confrontation  
  
~H~  
  
When we arrive in my parents' fireplace, we find that they aren't home. Ron pulls out his wand and cleans the ashes and Floo powder from us and the living room.  
  
"Where are they?" I ask worriedly, glancing at the clock. "It's not like them to not be home at this time. 8:00 is late for them."  
  
"Maybe they had an emergency tooth-pull that needed immediate attention," Ron replies as he collapses into one of the sofas.  
  
I laugh nervously and sit beside him. Ron wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head.  
  
I sigh and put my head on his shoulder. "I love you, Ron Weasley."  
  
"I know," he says smiling.  
  
After a few minutes' wait, there is a slamming of car doors in the garage. I jump up and hurry into the kitchen, anxious to tell my good news. Mum comes in, and I look behind her for Dad, being that I distinctly heard two car doors slam.  
  
"Congratulations, dear." I look back to Mum, who seems to have a feigned smile plastered on her face.   
  
Figuring that I was hearing things and that Dad is probably in bed, I clear my throat and say, "Um, Mum, can I talk to you? It's really important."  
  
"Sure, sweetie." She begins to sit down in one of the dining room chairs.  
  
"No, not here. It's much more comfortable in the living room."  
  
She rises again, seemingly slightly annoyed. "All right, then."  
  
She follows me into the living room, and gasps as soon as we enter. Ron stands up and holds out a hand, saying, "Hello, Mrs. Granger. I'm Ron Weas--"  
  
"I know who you are," she interrupts sharply, glancing down in disgust at his out-stretched hand, as if it were covered in something smelly. "Why are you here? Hermione, what *is* all this about?"  
  
Startled at her reaction, I come around from behind her and stand next to Ron. Mum's eyes widen as I take his hand in mine.  
  
"What's all this?" she asks again, more forcibly, gesturing wildly to mine and Ron's interlocked fingers.  
  
"Ron and I are engaged, Mum. We're getting married, and it will be a wizard wedding. I have come here to tell you and invite you to the ceremony. I'm aware that you're not exactly comfortable with the wizarding world, but I love Ron, and I am going to marry him. I will be gathering my things from my room and going back to Ron's family's house until the wedding. Then Ron and I will be getting our own place. Now, if you'll excuse me . . ." I walk around Mum, who is red in the face and fuming. I can almost see the steam coming from her ears.  
  
'Why is she acting so odd?'  
  
"*Hermione Ann Granger,*" she says frighteningly quietly, causing me to freeze in midstep. "Get back here now."  
  
I leave Ron on the stairs and go back to Mum, trying desperately to keep my head, despite Mum's strange behavior. She's standing exactly as I left her, stiff and unmoving. I come around and stand before her, ready for her reaction.   
  
"I have been patient and understanding for seven years, Hermione. When you got your Hogwarts letter, I indulged your desire to go, though I did not approve of such a lifestyle. I allowed you, unquestioningly, to return year after year, despite all the dangers to your life. I hoped that when you graduated, all this nonsense would finally end, that you would find a nice ordinary man and settle down and have children. I will *not* allow you to ruin your life. Now, tell Mr. Weasley to go home, and get yourself up to your room and think about how much you have upset me today." She turns and stalks into the kitchen, certain that I would do exactly as she said without a second thought.   
  
I look to Ron, desperate for assurance, and he comes back down to take my hand. I lead him up to my room, and we hurriedly place a reducing spell on all my things, so that they will fit in my largest trunk. He enchants it to float by itself down the stairs and goes through the fireplace first with the trunk. I hurriedly follow. As I yell, "The Burrow!" I see Mum run into the room, eyes fiery, and scream, "Hermione Ann Granger! I disown you! You are no longer my daughter! *I have no daughter!*"  
  
Suddenly, I experience that feeling of being sucked down a giant drain, spinning very quickly. The deafening roar, the cold wind on my face, and the whirl of green flames is a feeling I am still not used to. Then, the Burrow appears in front of me, along with the entire Weasley family. I notice for the first time that I am crying, hard. 


	6. Chapter 6: Flashing Back and Looking For...

Chapter 6: Flashing Back and Looking Forward  
  
-R-  
  
When Hermione emerges from the green flames, I see that she is sobbing. I immediately drop her trunk and take her into my arms. "Oh, Hermione. Please don't cry."  
  
"Ron," Mum says softly, "maybe you should take her up to your roon, get her settled. I'll send the trunk up after you. Go, now."  
  
I nod and help Hermione up the rickety, zig-zagging staircase to my room, which sits at the very top of the house. We climb up the five flights of stairs and reach my door, with its peeling paint and a small plaque that says, "Ronald's Room." I open it and allow her in first. Since she is still racked with sobs, I help her to my bed, where she finally collapses. Then she attempts to speak from where she lays, her face buried in my pillow.  
  
"What was her ruddy *problem*? -- completely *impossible* damn woman -- doesn't realize that the world doesn't *bloody* revolve around her -- even consider *my* feelings?"  
  
Hearing her swear causes me to flinch, since she's always getting on to me for my language. I lay down beside her and gingerly place a hand on her cheek, wiping the hair away from her damp cheek. She turns her head and looks up at me, a pained expression on her face. I lay my head down on the pillow to look at her from her eye level, keeping my hand on her cheek. Her eyes lock onto mine as she raises her hand to cover mine, gently caressing it. Sniffling one last time, a small smile finally makes its way to her face.  
  
"Do you realize," she said, bringing down my hand to kiss it gently, "that you and I are lying in the same bed?"  
  
I return the smile. "Yeah, what of it?"  
  
"Nothing. It's just that it's never happened before." She ruffles my unruly red hair and rests her hand on my cheek. "Thank you, Ron, for everything. I don't know where I'd be without you, honestly. I know that sounds so cliché, but it's the honest truth. I just can't picture myself without you."  
  
"The feeling is mutual," I say. Then the smile on my face widens.  
  
"What is it?" she asks furrowing her eyebrows through her own smile.  
  
"This isn't the first time you and I have lain in the same bed."  
  
She gives me a quizzical look, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. I do the same and press on. "Don't you remember? Sixth year . . ."  
  
*Flashback*  
  
"Well done, Miss Granger! Ten points to Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall praised Hermione for her quick, thorough answer. Hermione smiled modestly at having won our house over fifty points in one class period.  
  
"Now for homework, I want a twenty inch essay on the proper technique of human transfiguration."  
  
A communal groan rose from the class as the final bell of the day rings. We collected our books and filed from the classroom, eager to begin our weekend; it was forecasted to be wonderful late-fall weather. I caught up to Harry and Hermione and asked what they wanted to do. Harry's mouth was open in reply when a cold, drawling voice spoke up from behind us.  
  
"Plan on saving the world again, Potter?" Draco Malfoy, flanked by his thickset cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, stepped in front of us, causing us to stop. He tutted and crossed his arms. "Scarhead, Mudblood, and Weasel: the Three Musketeers of Wizard Pathetic."  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?" I said through gritted teeth, clenching and unclenching my fists in an attempt to prevent myself from wiping that smug grin from his pale, pointy face. Hermione must have sensed this, because she placed a hand on my arm. Malfoy saw this and his grin broadened.  
  
"Well, well, well, I would never have imagined *this*: Know-It-All Granger and Hand-Me-Down Weasley." He looked pointedly at Hermione. "What can you *possibly* see this pitiful excuse for a wizard who can offer you nothing." He took Hermione's hand from my arm, brought it to his thin lips, and kissed it. "Come with me. I can offer you your heart's desire, anything you could imagine."  
  
My face reddened in anger, and heat rose from my neck. I knew that the only reason Malfoy was taking any interest in Hermione whatsoever was the fact that she came back from the summer with a fuller, curvier figure. I reached for my wand as I said, "Get your bloody hands off her. *Furnunculus!*"  
  
He must have seen me reaching for my wand and reacted quickly, blocking my charm and sending another spell back toward me. But he missed, hitting Hermione instead. She was knocked to the ground, unconscious.  
  
As she fell, Harry had to hold me back by my robes to keep me from lunging at Malfoy. As Malfoy snickered with Crabbe and Goyle, I yelled, "*Petrificus Totalus!*" Every muscle in Malfoy's body tensed up as his arms and legs snapped together, and he fell to the floor with a loud *thud.* The two dunderheads' smiles faded as they gaped at me and ran away. Harry and I dropped to our knees beside Hermione.  
  
"We should get her up to the hospital wing and see what Madam Pomfrey can do to help," said Harry.  
  
***  
  
"It's not as serious as you think, boys," Madam Pomfrey assured Harry and I. "This will just have to run its course; Miss Granger should be recovered by the morning. And since I am feeling generous," she said with a smile, "and there are no other patients, I will allow you to stay as long as you want."  
  
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," I said, truly grateful.  
  
She nodded and exited the room after turning on the lamp beside Hermione's bed and extinguishing all the other lights. Harry and I pulled up a couple of chairs to sit and wait. After talking a couple of hours about Quidditch, Harry rose and said he was going back to the dormitories.  
  
"I'll be up later," I said as he exited the hospital wing. As the door closed behind him, I scooted closer to Hermione, stroking her cheek and laying my forehead against hers. Lying there, she looked so peaceful, so content, so beautiful. I felt a surge of emotion toward her. My heart began to race as I stared at her angelic, softly-lit face. I crawled into the bed beside her and continued to gently stroke her cheek. Eventually, I fell asleep beside her, feeling her warmth beside me.  
  
When I awoke a few hours later, I saw the beginnings of dawn playing at the horizon through the hospital windows. I stretched my cramped joints, careful not to awaken Hermione. But as I watched, her eyes lightly fluttered open, taking in her surroundings, and me.   
  
Furrowing her eyebrows and inhaling deeply, she asked, "Wh-what happened? Where am I?"  
  
I smiled softly and took her hand in mine, tracing lines on it softly with my finger. She looked at our hands and smiled, trying to sit up. I gently pushed her shoulders back down. "Relax. Malfoy missed me with a spell and hit you. You were knocked out for a couple of hours. I should probably go now and let you rest." I began to get up, but she grabbed my hand.  
  
"Stay, please," she said softly, pulling me back down beside her, smiling demurely, almost shyly. I got back up onto the bed, kissed her forehead, and ran my hand through her hair.  
  
"Of course I'll stay," I said as she pulled my chin down, meeting my lips in a kiss.  
  
*End Flashback*  
  
Hermione smiles at the memory and lays her head on my shoulder. "Yes, I remember that now."  
  
I kiss the top of her head. "I thought you might."  
  
~H~  
  
It has now been almost three months since the Weasleys graciously took me into their household. The wedding plans have been advancing at a steady pace; right now, it's scheduled for December, in three months. There have been no owls from Harry since we parted on platform nine-and-three-quarters, but Mr. Weasley (or "Dad," as he insists that I call him) assures us that he is still alive and well, though that is all he will tell us.  
  
Ron and I decided to go to Hogsmeade today to break the monotony of the Burrow. Since we have both passed out Apparition exams, we arrive there with a "pop" within moments. Ron takes my hand and smiles boyishly, saying, "Where to first, mi'lady?"  
  
I giggle and we head toward the nearest shop: Honeydukes. When we enter, Ron's eyes light up as if he were a young boy in a sweetshop. 'Which he practically is,' I remind myself. He drags me over to a display filled with packages of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Fizzing Whizbees, Droobles Best Blowing Gum, sugar quills, licorice wands, and Chocolate Frogs. ("I have been missing Agrippa since first year! I'm beginning to think they never made it.") His mouth begins to water, so I give him some money to buy himself some of the sweets. (Mrs. Weasley -- Mum -- insisted that I be in charge of the money, because Ron is known for his impetuous spending.)  
  
Another display features loads of joke sweets: Ice Mice, Cockroach Clusters, Acid Pops ("Fred gave me one of those when I was seven -- it burnt a hole right through my tongue!"), Jelly Slugs, exploding bonbons, and blood-flavored lollipops. When Ron runs across a package of Ton-Tongue Toffee, he exclaims, "Those are Fred's and George's confection! Imagine, they sell their sweets to Honeydukes. They must be rolling in riches that none of us ever see! I'll have to confront them about that when we get home."  
  
I start to pull on Ron's hand as he ogles over what could be a secret small fortune in the twins' possession, mumbling what sounds like, "So *that's* how Fred is paying for his wedding to Angelina. . . ."   
  
"Come *on,* Ron! I want to go to Gladrags!"  
  
He groans, coming back to his senses. "Oh, Hermione. I don't want to go shopping for clothes!"  
  
"I just want to see what kind of wedding robes they have."  
  
"But you and Mum have already decided that you will wear her old ones, after she takes them up."  
  
"I know, but I still want to *look.*" I don a puppy-dog face and stick out my bottom lip. "Please, Ronniekins!"  
  
He sighs mock-exasperatedly, smiling in spite of himself. "Oh, all right. But don't call me 'Ronniekins' again."  
  
Gladrags Wizardwear features a display of formal robes behind its glass front windows. My eyes light up at all the beautiful colors and designs, but Ron beside me seems bored. We go inside and I search for the wedding robe section. Suddenly, Ron starts pulling on my arm.  
  
"What is it?" I say.  
  
He points to the Quidditch robe section and says, "Is that Colin Creevey?"  
  
I look closer to the small, mousey-haired young man with a camera slung around his neck and gasp. "It *is*!"  
  
I pull Ron over and tap Colin on the shoulder. He turns around and his eyes light up.  
  
"Ron Weasley! Hermione Granger! What a surprise! How have you been? What are you doing here?"  
  
"Oh, I'm just looking at the wedding robes," I say, flushing slightly.  
  
He smiles broadly and shakes Ron's hand. "Oh, congratulations, you two! I always thought you two were perfect for each other."  
  
"Thanks, Colin. Hey, I want to invite you to the wedding. It's in December, during Christmas break. We'll send you an invitation in the mail. In fact," Ron says, turning to me, "how about if he takes the wedding photographs?"  
  
"That would be wonderful! Would you, Colin? It would mean so much have a friend take them instead of a stranger."  
  
"I would be honored, Hermione." He looks down at his camera and asks, "Can I take a picture of you two right now? Just to get me warmed up?"  
  
"Oh, sure. Just let me tidy up. . . ." I say, trying to flatten down my bushy brown hair.   
  
Ron pulls my hand away from my head and says, "Your hair looks fine. Fire away, Colin!"  
  
Ron puts his arms around my waist and I wrap mine around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, then resting my head against his and looking toward Colin. He smiles and says, "That's great, you two. Perfect," snapping the picture. After a few moments, the photograph shoots out of the camera and flutters into Colin's outstretched hand. He pulls out his wand and says an incantation, causing another photograph to spring from the original. "One for each of you," he says as the pictures both develop.   
  
When they are finished, I examine the wizard photo: it features Ron and I laughing together, wrapping our arms around each other, and kissing briefly. I smile and tuck it inside my robe, saying, "Thank you, Colin. It's beautiful."  
  
He smiles shyly and looks at his watch. "I have to go. I should be at the Daily Prophet by now. I'll see you guys at the wedding then?"  
  
"Yes. Thank you again, Colin." Ron shakes his hand again. Then Colin turns and leaves the shop.  
  
I smile and kiss Ron on the cheek.  
  
"What was that for?"  
  
"Just because I love you."  
  
He returns the smile. "I love you, too. I always will." 


	7. Chapter 7: Plot of the Squib Revealed

Chapter 7: Plot of the Squib Revealed  
  
-R-  
  
The following week, when the mail arrives at breakfast, a large, foreign gray owl swoops down in front of Hermione, holding out its leg for her to remove the piece of parchment tied to it. She casts a quizzical look from Mum to me and lands on Dad. He nods and says, "Go on, read it." Shrugging, she removes the parchment and unrolls it. She reads it and gasps, almost dropping it into her eggs, then turns to me with wide eyes.  
  
"What is it, Hermione? Let me see that." I almost have to pry the note from her clenched hand. On it is written a letter in neat, even handwriting. It reads:  
  
Dear Hermione,  
  
I might not know exactly how this works, but if you get this, it obviously did work. I had to search all over the find one of these ruddy owl posts.   
  
I am sorry about what happened. It was selfish of me not to take into account your feelings. You obviously love Ron very much, and I accept that. Please, accept my apology, Hermione. You are my daughter, and I love you very much. If you get this, please come home to receive my personal apologies. But please, come alone. I might accept your decisions, but it still makes me nervous to have strange wizards in my home.  
  
Love always,  
Mum  
  
I look up, as stunned as Hermione is.   
  
"What does it say?" Fred, George, and Ginny say in unison.  
  
I read the letter to them and Mum and Dad. They, too, find this sudden change of heart surprising. Hermione rises quickly from the table, almost knocking over her chair. I drop the note and follow her, saying, "Where are you going?"  
  
"I must go home. I can't pass up this opportunity. I must find out what was wrong with her."  
  
Once in my room, she starts throwing things into her trunk. I grab her wrist in mid-throw, and she looks up at me for the first time. Glancing down at my hand on her arm, she says, "Let me go."  
  
I move closer to her. "Hermione, please. Think about this. You can't just go rushing off, answering to her beck and call. That's exactly what she wants! The wedding is just weeks away. Please consider --"  
  
"Ron! Please, let me *go.*" She jerks her arm out of my grasp and slams her trunk shut.  
  
"Hermione!" I say loudly, causing her to whirl around. "Please," I continue in a begging tone of voice, "please don't leave like this. I couldn't *stand* for you to leave like this."  
  
The fire in her eyes immediately softens. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you." She collapses into my arms. "I love you, Ron. You know that. Never forget that, no matter what happens."  
  
"I love you, too, Hermione. I'll be here waiting for you when you return."  
  
She lifts her head and locks me in a passionate kiss, sending a flash of heat throughout my body. It is very rare for her to kiss me like this. All too soon, she pulls back and smiles, flushed. Gathering her things and grabbing onto her trunk, she Disapparates from my room.  
  
~H~  
  
When I arrive at my parents' house, I notice that I am standing outside on the lawn. Glancing around hurriedly to make sure no one saw, I ponder why I couldn't Apparate inside the house; it is almost as if there is a magical block on the house. 'That's ridiculous,' I muse to myself, laughing at my own presumption. Stepping up to the front door, I try the knob, finding it locked. I ring the doorbell and wait for an answer. After a few moments, Mum quickly peeks out of the living room window through the curtains, then I hear the door unlocking before me.  
  
"Hermione, dear!" Mum exclaims, an all-too-enthusiastic smile on her face.   
  
Immediately, I know something is amiss, but I keep my suspicions quiet. I allow her to embrace me and take my trunk. Leading me inside to the living room, she insists that I sit down and relax, let her take my trunk up to my room, and bring me some food. When she returns, she's holding a tray of cookies, a pitcher of milk, and a couple of glasses. She pours the milk and hands me a glass, insisting that I take three cookies.  
  
"Eat up, dear. I've read that Apparating is hard work."  
  
I choke on the cookie in my mouth and look incredulously at her. "Wh-what did you say?"  
  
"Don't act so surprised. I've been reading up on the wizarding world, to see what the fuss is all about. It seems quite interesting. In fact, I have someone you should meet," she says, standing and disappearing into the kitchen momentarily. She reappears with a pale-faced man dressed in charcoal robes and matching pointed hat perched on his head. He has dark gray eyes the same shade of his robes and jet black hair that matches his pencil-thin moustache and goatee. Something about him seems oddly familiar, something in the eyes. . . .  
  
"This is Mr. Flomay."  
  
He holds out a black-gloved hand and says in an oily sort of voice, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger. I have heard so much about you, being such a close friend of the infamous Harry Potter. Your mother here came to me after your quarrel, desperate to come up with a way to get you back home. She loves you very much, you know."  
  
He finally releases my hand, and I eye him warily, hovering my now-free hand over where my wand lies inside my robes. He sees this and smiles unnaturally, as if smiling causes him pain. "There is no need to feel threatened, Miss Granger."  
  
For the first time, I notice that my father is nowhere to be seen, as the last time I was here. "Where's Dad?"  
  
Mum smiles, almost wickedly, and says, "He is indisposed at the moment, dear."   
  
Then, within the blink of an eye, the pale man Summons my wand from my robes, pulls out his own wand, and yells, "*Petrificus Totalus!*" I am paralyzed and fall to the floor.   
  
Mum comes over and stands over me, looking down almost sadly. Then she kneels and says, "I'm sorry I've had to do this, dear. I never have been very fond of magic, but it seemed the only way to get you to realize. I have employed this gentleman to help me get you to realize. Oh, and I'm sorry, but I lied. This gentleman --" She motions to the pale man. "-- is really named Malfoy. Perhaps you know him?"  
  
When the pale man walks over and leans over me, I see his black hair turning to blonde, his facial hair disappearing, his bone structure morphing. All at once, Draco Malfoy is standing over me, sneering and smiling maliciously simultaneously, his charcoal eyes glittering malevolently.  
  
'Polyjuice potion,' I think to myself. 'My own mother. How could she?'  
  
"You might be asking yourself how your own mother could be doing this to you," Mum starts. "There are some things you need to understand, some things I've never told you. But first, do you think that if Mr. Malfoy grants you movement again that you can keep still long to listen? If so, nod." She laughs briefly at her own joke, then the serious tone returns to her voice. "There would be no need for you to try to escape, by Apparition or otherwise; the whole house has been magically sealed, which is why you couldn't Apparate inside the house. Now, Mr. Malfoy . . ."  
  
Malfoy seems to be taking great amusement in having such control over me, but he does as Mum requests. It takes me a few moments before I can really move again after I stretch my muscles. I sit down on the couch, keeping one eye on Mum, the other on Malfoy, who is standing over to the side with his arms crossed in front of him inside his wide robe sleeves, watching with great interest.  
  
"Now, dear, to what I need to tell you. This may come as a bit of a shock, but your grandparents, great-grandparents, and even further back, were all wizards."  
  
This revelation hits my like a ton of bricks. 'Wizards? But how can that be? Then Mum would be, too, unless she's a . . .'   
  
"Yes, my dear, I see you understand. I am a squib, a magic-less wizard, a disgrace in the eyes of all warlock-kind. The summer after I turned eleven, I was so anxious to receive my Hogwarts letter, as had my older sisters and brother before me. But it never came. 'Maybe it just got lost in the owl post,' my mum tried to reassure me. 'It's been known to happen. Or maybe they feel you're just not ready yet. That happened to a friend of mine. Let's wait until next year.'   
  
"But it didn't come the next year either. Or the year after that. Or ever. It was determined that I was a squib. I was devastated, but my parents tried their best to console me, to say it wasn't my fault. I couldn't stand the disgrace of it all and ran away when I was 14. I was taken in by a Muggle orphanage until I was 17 and released as an adult.  
  
"When I met your father two years later, I thought I would be able to live a normal life, albeit as a Muggle. We had you almost immediately, and you were the light of my life. Things were going perfectly, until you turned eleven and received your Hogwarts letter. I didn't let on, but I was wildly bitter about it. 'How could it be?' I asked myself. 'Why couldn't I have gotten the magic, too?' I just didn't understand. As you know, I didn't want you to go, but your father took up for you. I was out-voted, but that didn't mean that I had to be happy about it. And I wasn't at all.  
  
"When you graduated, I thought it was all over, that I could finally get past that disgrace. But you went off and found a wizard to marry, and I had had enough. When you left, I vowed that I would find a way to keep you from having the life I had always wanted. One day when I was in Knockturn Alley, I ran across Mrs. Malfoy, Draco's mother. She and I had been close as children, as our parents had been good friends. We chatted a bit, and she mentioned that she had a son who said that he knew you. I went to him, and he agreed to help me. He schemed up this whole plan, and I set it into action by delivering that letter, which leads us to where we are now."  
  
"The next step in this plan," Malfoy speaks up eagerly, "is to get rid of Weasley. Having taken a sample of your handwriting from some of your Transfiguration notes and purchasing this Handwriting-Emulating Quill --" He pulls an acid green feather and a roll of parchment out of his robes. "-- all I have to do now is allow the quill to absorb your handwriting, like so." He puts the quill onto the parchment, and it soaks up all the ink from the parchment. "Now, all I have to do is write with this quill, and anything I write will come out in your handwriting." He demonstrates on the parchment, writing, "Dear Ron."  
  
He cackles maniacally, kneeling down and placing the quill and parchment down on the coffee table. "Now watch as I rid you of that redheaded pest and his whole destitute clan." He places the quill against the parchment again and continues to write. When he's finished, he hands it to Mum to read, smiling that foul smile of his. "Is this satisfactory, Mrs. Granger?" I read over her shoulder:  
  
Dear Ron,  
  
I am writing you this letter just to let you know that I am not coming back. I don't intend you marry you, nor did I ever. I never had any feelings for you; I never loved you. It was all an act to get back at my one and only true love. I felt that if I could just convince myself to follow through with this marriage that I could forget about him. But I just can't force myself into a union in which I feel nothing. He came to me and finally professed his love and asked me to marry him. The moment that happened, the wedding token you had given me became visible and fell off my finger.  
  
Don't try to contact me or my family. Please forward this request to Harry and Ginny and anyone else who might try. I am closing myself off from the entire wizarding world and will have a partial Memory Charm placed on me to make me forget about the past seven years, to forget all about you, Harry, and everyone else. So even if you do try to contact me, I won't remember you. Don't waste your and my time.  
  
Hermione  
  
After Mum finishes reading the letter, she looks at Malfoy and smiles. "This is quite satisfactory, Draco. Would you please make sure this gets to Mr. Weasley? Hermione and I have business to take care of."  
  
He bows deeply. "Yes, Ma'am." With that, he disappears with a "pop."  
  
Mum turns to me, smiling in what normally would be a warm smile. "Now, dear, you were inquiring about your father?" 


	8. Chapter 8: False Realizations

Chapter 8: False Realization  
  
-R-  
  
Later that evening as I sit on my bed reading, "Hope for the Best: History of the Chudley Cannons," a large tawny owl swoops in through my open window and lands in front of me on the bed. I remove the parchment rolled around its outstretched leg and pay the five Knut fee. It hoots in gratitude and flies back into the night.  
  
Unrolling the parchment, I see Hermione's neat handwriting and a smile spreads over my face. But as I read, the smile fades, reading the words I thought I'd never have to read from Hermione.  
  
"It can't be true," I say to no one except the ghoul upstairs, who has now taken to slamming things around because of the quiet. "This is all a big joke. It *can't* be true!"  
  
I desperately search the room, not knowing what I'm looking for, but hoping I'll know when I see it. My eyes land on the picture that Colin took of us that day in Hogsmeade, which is framed on my wall, the only thing not of a blazing orange color. The way Hermione looked at me then, the way she laughed, the way she kissed me . . . "It *can't* be true!"  
  
Determined, I stand up and Disapparate, appearing a moment later on the Grangers' front lawn. Checking quickly for any Muggles that might have seen me, I stride up to the front door. When I reach out to turn the doorknob, I encounter a sharp shock that burns my hand. I pull it back to me reflexively and stare at the doorknob, which I see now is sparking with green.  
  
I hear a rustling behind the door and see an eye appear in the peephole. Words are muttered and the knob stops sparking. The door opens, revealing the pale, pointed face and blonde hair of Draco Malfoy, who is smiling that foul smile of his, a glitter in his charcoal eyes.  
  
"Weasley, I knew you'd --"  
  
"Where is she?" I cut in, completely disregarding the strangeness of Malfoy being at Hermione's house. "Where's Hermione?"  
  
His face contorts into one of mocking pity. "Oh, I'm afraid she's indisposed at the moment."  
  
I grab the front of his robes, fighting to maintain enough cool to get something out of him. 'For Hermione.'   
  
"I said, where is she, you foul, pathetic excuse for a human being?"  
  
He pries my fingers away from his robes and slowly smoothes them down, keeping his eyes on me. "Now, now, Weasley, violence will get you nowhere. Miss Granger doesn't wish to see you -- I take it you got the owl? I would think that she made it clear enough, but I guess it *would* be hard for simple concepts to penetrate that thick, red head of yours. She doesn't love you; she loves someone else, someone who can provide for her like you could never --"  
  
"Who, Malfoy?" I growl, thoughts of what I'd do to the bastard who took her from me swimming through my head.  
  
"Why, I thought it would be obvious, Weasley. It's me." Seeing the total shock on my face, he smiles sadistically and continues. "Ah, so I see you really *didn't* know. Well, I'm sorry you had to find out this --"  
  
I lunge at him, without Harry to hold me back by my robes, knocking him, and the wand that he pulled from his robes, to the floor. His wand skitters away, just out of his reach. I jump off him to get it, but he scrambles over and grabs for it just as my fingertips brush it. He stand up and holds the wand to my chest, panting slightly, and forces me back onto the porch.  
  
"Go, Weasley. I'm feeling generous, so I'll spare your life. But next time, I will not hesitate to turn the Cruciatus Curse on you; of course, after I call Hermione to watch first." He pokes me with the wand. "Go!" One final shove and he slams the door.  
  
I stand a few moments, unable to move, staring at the closed door. Despite the coolness of the night, heat begins to rise off of me, and I'm sure my ears are very pink. I run out onto the lawn and yell up to the upstairs window, "Hermione! Hermione, please! Come out here now! Please, Hermione! *Hermione!*"  
  
I began to get frantic. Falling to my knees, I continue yelling. I feel the tears coming, and they come through in my voice. My heart is breaking inside me as memories of the past seven years come flooding back. . . .  
  
*Flashback*  
  
"Ron! Ron!"  
  
I was walking around the grounds, enjoying one of the cool afternoons of autumn. I turned around to see who was calling for me, and I saw Hermione running out of the castle and down the stairs toward me. I stopped and waited for her, puzzled.  
  
When she reached me, she doubled over, placing her hands on her knees and panting. Sweat trickled down her forehead and neck. She regained her breath and stood up, searching my eyes with her own. After a few moments, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me fiercely. At first, I stared down at her, wondering what on earth was going on, but soon I just let go and returned the kiss.  
  
She pulled back a little, arms still around my neck, and smiled.   
  
Furrowing my eyebrows, I asked, "Hermione, what's going on? What about Harry?"  
  
Her smile broadened as she reached up to brush her fingertips against the hair at the nape of my neck, her eyes leaving mine. "I've just been to see Harry, and I told him about yesterday. . . ."  
  
"But --"  
  
"Don't worry about it, Ron. He understands." She directed her eyes back to mine. "Ron, I love you. It's taken me six years to discover it, but now I know. Oh, Ron, I love you so much." Her eyes started to glisten with tears and she laid her head on my chest, hugging me tightly.  
  
At first, I was dumbfounded. 'She . . . loves me? But how? When? Why? . . . Oh, Ron, just shut up and kiss her!'  
  
I lifted her chin and gazed into her watery brown eyes. "I love you, too, Hermione. I always will." Then I met her lips again, feeling truly happy for the first time in my life.  
  
*End Flashback*  
  
I hang my head and cry, not caring whether or not Malfoy is watching me; I just don't care.  
  
Suddenly, someone pops up beside me. I look up, red-faced and tear-stained, and into Fred's worried face. He kneels down beside me, wiping my sweaty hair from my forehead.  
  
"Ron, we were getting worried about you. What happened?"  
  
I shake my head and stand up, casting a saddened, spiteful glare back to the house. Turning toward the street, I start walking.  
  
Fred runs up behind me, saying, "Hey, why don't we just Apparate?"  
  
I respond quietly, "I'm likely to get myself splinched in this condition."  
  
"I think you'd probably look *better* if you were splinched. . . ." Fred replies under his breath.  
  
I wheel around to face him, fire in my eyes. "Well, I'm glad you can make jokes, Fred! My heart has just been torn from my chest, and you're teasing me! That bloody Malfoy . . ."  
  
Fred's eyes widen. "Malfoy? You mean, Malfoy . . . and Hermio--"  
  
"Yes, Fred! That's what I mean!"  
  
With that, I Disapparate, not caring what happens to me. 


	9. Chapter 9: The Memory Charm

Chapter 9: The Memory Charm  
  
~H~  
  
"Yes, I would like to know where my father is," I say to my mother, quietly but forcefully. "Is he dead?"  
  
"Well, dear," I flinch at the endearing term as she settles onto the couch. "When I first brought Draco home, your father objected, as would be expected. Let's just say that Draco's temper got the better of him, and he turned the Cruciatus Curse on your father. So, as you know, your father is worse than dead now, a soulless shell." She seems to be taking some sort of sick pleasure in telling me this. "Now, when Draco returns, we will get to the business of your partial Memory Charm. For now, go up to your room and enjoy your last hours of knowing you're a witch. Go on."  
  
I turn, sending one last glare at her, and ascend the stairs, casting a spell on the door behind me to keep it locked. Flinging myself onto my bed, I pull from my robes the picture of Ron and me that Colin took back in Gladrags. And for the first time, I cry.  
  
"Where are you, Ron?" I whisper, gazing up at the stars through my window. "Why haven't you saved me yet?" I sigh heavily through my tears.   
  
Summoning a self-inking quill to me, I begin to write on the back of the picture:  
  
"I'm sorry things didn't work out. I hope you can get over this and forget about me. I want you to be happy, even if it's with someone else. I don't want you to be miserable but remain loyal to me; I won't know that you are anyway. Goodbye, Ron Weasley. I love you, and I always will."  
  
I place an Invisibility Charm on the picture and put it in the hole in my bedroom wall behind my wardrobe, as I have done with all my other wizard things. I hope that someday I will be able to use them again.  
  
***  
  
When Malfoy returns, he and Mum come into my room. Obviously fighting to keep a smile from his face, Malfoy explains the spell to me, even though we both know that I could recite it to him verbatim from "Standard Book of Spells."  
  
"The effect this charm has is to erase a portion of the memory of the afflicted, in your case, seven years' worth. When I point my wand, I will say the incantation and concentrate on the amount of time I want erased. Now, Hermione, prepare to say goodbye to Hogwarts, Harry, and your precious Weas--"  
  
Malfoy is interrupted by a fluttering of wings as an owl swoops in through the open window. The small gray owl lands in front of me and holds out its leg. I take the parchment and unroll it, seeing Ron's untidy scrawl. Reading it, my heart is ripped from my chest and torn to pieces:  
  
Hermione,  
  
I had no idea you would be capable of such deception. I thought you loved me. What about all those special moments we've shared over the years? Did those mean nothing to you? Did it mean nothing when I poured my heart and soul out to you? Did it mean nothing when I changed, just for you? Did it mean nothing when I asked you to officially become a part of my very being, when you had already been so for years? Well, those things obviously mean nothing to you. I just can't believe . . . I'm speechless. I hope you realize just how much this hurts me. Have a good life with Malfoy. And don't worry, you won't ever hear from me again.  
  
Ron  
  
Tears pour from my eyes as I look up into Draco's smug face. He raises his wand, smiling amusedly, and lazilyutters, "*Obliviate!*"  
  
As the spell hits me, I feel the heat rush through my head, as I have read happens during the Charm. But another feeling is there which causes my head to throb.   
  
'What's going on? That's not supposed to happen!'  
  
Forgetting the strange feeling, I struggle to hold onto my memory of Hogwarts and the whole wizarding world. But especially of Ron.  
  
'Ron, I love you. Ronald Weasley, I love you. Harry Potter, my best friend. Ron, my love . . . Ron Weasley . . . Ron . . . Ron . . . Ron? Who's Ron?'  
  
When I look up through my tears at Mum and Draco, Mum smiles and Draco takes my hand, saying, "Come, my lovely Hermione. Mother is expecting us for dinner."  
  
Looking up at this pale, pointy-faced blonde, I feel a rush of love. I wipe my eyes, smile, and stand, saying, "Yes, Draco, darling. I remember our appointment with Narcissa."  
  
He smiles, sending an electric thrill through me. I gaze at him as we walk to Mum's car, thinking, 'Draco, my love, my fiancé . . .' 


	10. Chapter 10: Tears and Tea

Chapter 10: Tears and Tea  
  
-R-  
  
I awoke the next afternoon after a night of restless sleep. Not feeling like facing anyone, I lock mye door to be alone with my memories, which are many.  
  
"How could you to this to me?" I ask the picture of Hermione and me in Gladrags, which is now laying on the floor, the glass of the frame broken, severing the space between mine and Hermione's faces. "Why now, Hermione, just when things are relatively peaceful? Why, when we can be together for the rest of our lives? Just, why?"  
  
I feel the tears burning behind my eyes, but I hold them back. The anger within me is melting into heartache as I reminisce. . . .  
  
*Flashback*  
  
After Harry left with the Dursleys from platform nine-and-three-quarters at the end of fourth year, Hermione turned to me, smiling broadly. I felt a strange urge just then to kiss her.  
  
'Ron, you can't think about her that way!' I mentally scold myself. 'She's your best friend!' But I couldn't convince myself to force the thoughts from my head.  
  
I imagined myself sweeping her into my muscular arms, the wind whipping at our hair and robes just as I had seen once on the cover of a Muggle romance novel. Her cloak hanging from her shoulders sensually, she put her hands on my bare chest and gazed up into my eyes.   
  
"Oh, Ron!" the imagined Hermione said. "Kiss me!" My imagined self leaned down, pulling her closer, and kissed her neck repeatedly. She closed her eyes in rapture and whispered, "Ron . . . Ron . . . Ron . . ."  
  
"Ron!" The real Hermione stared up at me, puzzled.  
  
I cleared my throat nervously and stood there awkwardly, as if she could have seen my thoughts. "S-Sorry . . . I-I just . . ." I stuttered incoherently, evoking an even more confused stare from her.  
  
"Hermione!" I looked over her shoulder at the same time she did and saw Hermione's parents. Dr. Granger was smiling warmly and beckoning to his daughter. She turned from looking at her father and back to me, smiling. Reaching up, she put her arms around my neck in a nice, friendly hug.  
  
"I'll send you an owl from Bulgaria," she said, pulling back and smiling, not yet letting go of me.  
  
My happiness at being so close to her left abruptly. "Y-You're going? B-But . . ." I couldn't think of anything to say, so I let slip the only two words permeating my mind. "Don't go." She furrowed her eyebrows, loosening her grip on my neck. But I held onto her waist all the tighter. "Please, Hermione." I said it with such pleading that her expression softened immediately and, to my delight, she tightened her grip on my neck once again.  
  
"I was only joking, Ron. I already told Viktor that I couldn't go."  
  
"Hermione!" Dr. Granger called again. "Hurry up and say goodbye to your boyfriend! We need to go!"  
  
Hermione blushed fiercely, releasing me and looking down. "He's not my boyfriend," she muttered to her feet. Looking back up to me, still beet-red, she stood on her tiptoes, put her hands on my chest, and leaned in to kiss my cheek, as she had done to Harry.  
  
From then on, everything was in slow motion. As she grew closer to my cheek, I gathered my Gryffindor courage and turned my face the few inches it took to brush my lips against hers. She pulled back quickly, said a quiet, "'Bye, Ron," and hurried away to her father. I smiled after her dreamily.  
  
Thankfully, no one had seen the kiss, our first kiss.  
  
*End Flashback*  
  
I pull myself from the bed and kneel down beside the photograph in the broken frame, careful to avoid the glass. Gingerly picking it up and shaking the glass from it, I gaze down at Hermione as she wraps her arms around me, smiles, kisses me, wraps her arms around me, smiles, kisses me . . .   
  
Finally, I allow the tears to fall, splashing onto the photograph, blurring the picture of happiness that had once been Hermione and me.  
  
~H~  
  
"So, you have taken care of the catering and food arrangements already, Narcissa?" Mum and Mrs. Malfoy discuss the arrangements regarding Draco's and my wedding. We sit off to the side, allowing our mums to do the bulk of the work.  
  
Though I'm supposed to be listening to and participating in the planning, my mind is wandering. Draco is holding my right hand, leaving me to marvel at the beautiful wedding ring on my left. The opalesque stone shimmers in the afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window.  
  
"Yes, I have an acquaintance who is in the business, and he has agreed to help us," Mrs. Malfoy is saying.  
  
"Perfect! So I'll prepare the location and deal with the dresses and suits. Have we got everything covered then?"  
  
I look up to Draco lovingly and ask, "Where did you get this ring, darling? It's positively lovely!"  
  
Having obviously been deep in thought, Draco blinks rapidly and looks absently at me. "What? What ring?"  
  
I hold up my left hand and wiggle the ring with my thumb. "This ring!"  
  
He looks at my finger, furrowing his fine, blonde eyebrows. Then his eyes widen and he says, "Oh! Um . . . some jewelry shop in . . . France. I don't really remember." Then he suddenly becomes very interested in the plans being made by our mums.  
  
I shrug and tune back in also.  
  
After a few more minutes, Mrs. Malfoy stands up and offers us after-dinner tea. I stand also and follow her into the kitchen to help. She sets to boiling the water as I pull four teacups and saucers from the cupboard. With my back turned to her, I hear her mutter some words under her breath.  
  
I turn around, setting down the porcelain ware. "Pardon?"  
  
She smiles, hurriedly pulling her hand from her apron pocket. "Nothing, dear. Hand me the tea leaves, would you?"  
  
I look at the kettle on the stove, shocked to see that steam is already rising from the spout. Puzzling over how the water could be boiling so quickly, I make to hand her a package of tea leaves.  
  
In midstep, I feel a warm wetness on my face which drips onto my lips. I lick at it instinctively, finding a salty taste. Simultaneously, I see the image of a redhead and hear the words, "But you also make me feel the most wonderful, most fulfilled, most satisfied, most complete. When I'm with you, I forget all the darkness in my life. You are my light, my life, my love. Hermione Ann Granger, will you accept my proposal and be my wife?"  
  
For some reason, I feel a connection to this strange redhead. My left ring finger starts to tingle as those words are repeated over and over in my mind. ". . . you also make me feel the most wonderful, most fulfilled, most satisfied, most complete . . . you are my light, my life, my love . . . will you accept my proposal and be my wife? . . . the most wonderful . . . most complete . . . accept my proposal . . . my wife . . ."  
  
"Hermione? Dear, are you all right?" Mrs. Malfoy puts a hand on my shoulder, breaking me out of my reverie.  
  
"Yes, I'm . . . fine. Here, let me handle this. You go back out there. I'm fine, really!" I add, seeing her hesitation.  
  
"If you insist, but --"  
  
"I do! Please, I'm fine." I turn and busy myself with pouring the still-boiling water in four cups, placing tea leaves in each and stirring. Knowing that Draco likes lemon in his tea, I find a slice and squeeze the sour juice into his cup.  
  
I place the cups, teapot, and sugar on one of Mrs. Malfoy's nice sterling silver trays, then reenter the sitting room. I distribute the cups, handing the one with lemon to Draco. Setting down the tray, I sit next to him on the sofa. He takes a sip, immediately spitting out the tea, wipes his mouth, and demands of me in disgust, "What is in this?"  
  
Startled, I set down my cup on my saucer and reply, "Lemon, darling. You like lemon in your tea."  
  
He stares at me incredulously. "I *hate* lemon! You must have me confused with that We--"  
  
He stops abruptly, glancing to Mum and Mrs. Malfoy. Setting down his cup and saucer onto the end table beside him, he smiles and takes my hands in his. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to yell at you. Come, it's probably time we returned home anyway." He stood and went to his mother, kissing her cheek. "Thank you for having us, Mother."  
  
"It was my pleasure, Draco."  
  
He nods and leads me to the door, Mum following, and we enter the car.  
  
As we travel home, I wander about the vision I had in the kitchen. 'Who was that redhead? Why did my ring tingle? Why did those words sound so familiar?' 


	11. Chapter 11: Daily Prophet

Chapter 11: Daily Prophet  
  
-R-  
  
Wiping my face, I get up from my knees and pull out my wand.   
  
"*Reparo!*" I say to the glass on the floor in front of me, after placing the now-damp picture back into the frame.  
  
The shards fly back to their respective places, once again encasing the photograph.  
  
Crawling back into bed, I try not to think about Hermione, but it's so hard. Anything I think about somehow links back to her.  
  
'The Chudley Cannons . . . Quidditch World Cup . . . fourth year . . . discovering my feelings for Hermione . . .'  
  
'Triwizard Tournament . . . second task . . . the lake . . . asking Hermione to marry me in front of the lake . . .'  
  
'Viktor Krum . . . wait, that's a bad one . . .'  
  
"It's no use," I say dejectedly, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
Feeling a sudden wave of fury, I sit up and grab the closest thing to me, which just happens to be the figure of Viktor Krum I bought at the Quidditch World Cup. I hurl it across the room, narrowly missing the mirror hanging on the wall opposite me.  
  
"Watch it, you!" it shrieks.  
  
Sighing loudly, I throw myself back onto my bed and try to get some more rest.  
  
I sleep fitfully the rest of the afternoon and evening.  
  
***  
  
It's taken me a whole day to be able to leave my room. When I woke up this morning, I decided that there is no reason to mope around forever; it's obvious Hermione didn't.  
  
As I make my way downstairs, I hear hushed voices drifting up from the kitchen: Fred, George, and Ginny. I stop a few steps from the bottom, out of their line of vision, and listen.  
  
"See! Look here. I told you!" There is a rustling of paper as Fred speaks quietly.  
  
"I didn't believe you, Fred," George replies. "But this . . . There have been times in the past when they have exaggerated things, but it would be awfully hard to pull this kind of thing from thin air."  
  
"I just can't believe she'd do something like this!" Ginny exclaims, evoking a "Shh!" from the twins. "I mean, she never --" Ginny stops abruptly because of the creak that came from the stair when I shifted on it.  
  
My cover blown, I step into the kitchen and sit down beside Ginny, who has grown extraordinarily interested in her bowl of cereal. I Summon a bowl to me and pour my breakfast. Trying to act natural, Fred and George start discussing their most recent confection: Pimple Puffs, chocolate balls that give the eater acne.  
  
I see this morning's issue of the Daily Prophet folded on the table in front of Fred. When I reach for it, he pulls it away quickly, saying, "I was just about to read this."  
  
"Sure you were, Fred. *Accio Daily Prophet!*" The newspaper zooms into my hand. As the twins and Ginny watch with bated breath, I open the paper and scan the first page. The top headline reads in large bold letters, "HOGWARTS HEAD GOVERNOR'S SON TO WED BEST FRIEND OF INFAMOUS HARRY POTTER." Underneath was a picture of Hermione with Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa Malfoy. Malfoy and Hermione are holding hands, smiling and waving at the camera. Hermione seems perfectly happy, as though I had never existed.  
  
Fighting to keep my composure, I read the short article to myself:  
  
"Head governor of the esteemed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Lucius Malfoy prepares to welcome a new member to his prestigious family. His son, Draco, newly graduated from the school, has found love in Hermione Granger, a pretty Gryffindor who had been in his class. Coming from a long line of wizards, Granger is the best friend of Harry Potter, the boy to whom is accredited the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named numerous times. Alone, the two fought side-by-side to defeat the Dark Lord at their years at Hogwarts, finally banishing him from the face of the earth at the end of their seventh year.  
  
"'While at school,' Draco said when asked about how he and Hermione fell in love, 'Hermione and I didn't get along too well because of the bitterness between our two houses, Slytherin and Gryffindor. But when we graduated, I saw her for the beautiful witch she is, and I knew that I would marry her. Really, it was silly for me to suppress my feelings because of a rivalry born thousands of years ago.'  
  
"The wedding date and location have yet to be released to the general public, though we will inform you, our dear readers, as soon as we find out."  
  
Not believing what I just read, I reread it.   
  
"Coming from a long line of wizards . . . Alone, the two fought side-by-side to defeat the Dark Lord . . . alone . . ."  
  
Shaking with anger, I stand up from my chair, clutching the newspaper tightly in my hand, and knock over my chair as I storm out of the kitchen and out into the morning sunlight. The anger is burning within me, threatening to explode in a fit of rage. But the extreme heartache dulls the anger, filling me with a terrible sense of loneliness.   
  
"Alone . . ." the newspaper had said.   
  
'Just like me.'  
  
Finding nowhere to go, I Apparate back up to my room and get dressed. I decide that I'm not going to let Hermione rule my life anymore. I'm going to go out there and find me another, better woman. But something in the back of my mind quietly whispers, "Better than Hermione? Ron, don't kid yourself."  
  
"Shut up," I say to the voice before Disapparating to Hogsmeade.  
  
Once on High Street, I set to finding myself a new girl. But it's a lot harder than I had thought. After searching for about an hour, I retreat to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer.  
  
The familiarity of the pub eases my stress ever so slightly as I sink into a chair at a table for two. Almost immediately, Madam Rosmerta, the owner, comes over to me, her heels clicking on the hard floor.  
  
Smiling warmly, she bends slightly at the waist and asks, "What do you need there, darlin'?"  
  
I reply sullenly, "Something you can't get for me."  
  
She frowns and straightens up. "What's eating at you? And where's that lovely girlfriend of yours?" A look of realization dawns on her pretty face. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean --"  
  
"It's all right," I say, holding up a hand. "I'm fine. Can you get me a butterbeer?"  
  
"Sure thing. And it's on me." She turns around and clicks away.  
  
After drinking a couple of butterbeers, I feel much better. Just as I prepare to get up and go home, I see a beautiful witch enter the dank little pub. Her curly auburn hair shines in the lamplight and faint freckles dot her face. She's wearing form-fitting, low-cut navy robes that hug her in all the right places. Almost immediately, her bright green eyes meet mine. Her lips curling into a very slight smile, she begins to walk toward me.  
  
'Oh no!' I think to myself. 'She's coming over here! What should I do? I can't do this. I thought I could, but I can't. Go away, oh please, go away!'  
  
But she doesn't. Instead, she walks right up to the chair across from me.   
  
"Is this seat taken?" she asks in a soft voice with a light Australian accent, gesturing to the empty seat.  
  
Feeling a lump in my throat, I simply shake my head, which causes her smile to widen as she settles herself in the chair. As she bends over to check her robes, I catch an eyeful of her cleavage. She straightens back up and places her elbows on the table, putting her chin on her folded hands and leaning forward seductively.  
  
"So, what's your name, gorgeous?"  
  
'A bit forward, this one,' I think. 'Hermione was never this forward. . . . Oh, do shut up, Ron! And answer her!'  
  
Clearing my throat, I say raspily, "R-Ron Weasley."  
  
"Well, R-Ron Weasley, my name is Bianca Michaels." She holds out her hand. "Nice to meet you."  
  
I take it, finding it incredibly soft. I'm almost reluctant to let go.  
  
After a few minutes of silence, she asks, "Well, R-Ron, are you going to buy me a drink or not?" 


	12. Chapter 12: I'm With You

Chapter 12: I'm With You  
  
~H~  
  
As I sit on my bed that evening listening to my new CD, Avril Lavigne's "Let Go," I ponder over the vision I had in the Malfoy's kitchen for the millionth time.   
  
'There's something about that man I saw. I feel some kind of connection to him, but what is it? It's almost as if I . . . But that can't be! I love Draco. At least, something in my mind *tells* me I do. Well, if I do, how come I don't *feel* it then? I feel it with this redhead. I wonder, is he even real? Does he know about me? Does he feel the same way? Ah! So confusing!'  
  
Still as puzzled as ever, I go over to my desk and pull out the CD jacket from the case to read along with the lyrics.  
  
I'm standing on the bridge  
I'm waiting in the dark  
I thought that you'd be here by now  
There's nothing but the rain  
No footsteps on the ground  
I'm listening but there's no sound  
  
'That's exactly how I feel. I feel so lost right now, so alone. I know this wedding isn't right, but how can I explain it to Mum and Draco and everyone. They're hiding something from me; I can feel it, and it's something big.'  
  
Looking down at my ring, I continue listening.  
  
Isn't anyone trying to find me  
Won't somebody please take me home  
  
It's a damn cold night  
Trying to figure out this life  
Won't you take me by the hand  
Take me somewhere new  
I don't know who you are but I  
I'm with you  
  
'This redhead can "take me home," wherever that is; it's not here, that much I know. O Mysterious Redhead! Where are you? *Who* are you? And why aren't you here?'  
  
I'm looking for a place  
I'm searching for a face  
Is anybody here I know  
Cause nothing's going right  
And everything's a mess  
And no one likes to be alone  
  
'Could I really love this man? If so, why am I with Draco? And why does my mum seem to have some part in this?'  
  
Isn't anyone trying to find me  
Won't somebody please take me home  
  
It's a damn cold night  
Trying to figure out this life  
Won't you take me by the hand  
Take me somewhere new  
I don't know who you are but I  
I'm with you  
I'm with you  
  
Why is everything so confusing  
Maybe I'm just out of my mind  
  
It's a damn cold night  
Trying to figure out this life  
Won't you take me by the hand  
Take me somewhere new  
I don't know who you are but I  
I'm with you  
I'm with you  
  
'I'm with you . . . whoever you are. Please, come soon. Prove that I'm not going mad.' I look down at the ring, tears in my eyes. Feeling suddenly angry at Draco for deceiving me, however and whyever he did it, I pull at the piece of metal on my finger, intending to flush it down the toilet.  
  
But it won't budge. It almost hurts to try to take it off; something in my chest is wrenched each time I tug, so I give up.  
  
"Draco's put some kind of curse on this bloody ring with his magic," I say. Then I laugh at the absurdity of my statement. "There's no such thing."  
  
Tired of listening to such thought-provoking music, I turn off the CD player and decide to read instead. I pull out a nice, thick Stephen King novel and settle into my bed, engrossing myself in the world of Louis and Rachel Creed in "Pet Sematary."  
  
About an hour later, there is a knock at my door.  
  
"Hermione, it's Draco."  
  
I set down the book on my bedside table and call, "Come in." I decide to try to hide as much as possible my suspicions.  
  
He enters my room and closes the door behind him. Turning to me, he dons a half-smile and dims the lights before walking over and sitting next to me on my bed. He takes my hands and pulls me up next to him, then he wraps his arms around me. My brain rejoices at the sensation of his hands caressing my cheek and back, the feel of his breath on my face, the warmth of his body next to mine.  
  
But my heart tells me that this isn't right, that there is something cold in his touch. I shudder involuntarily, and he takes this as a sigh of pleasure. He kisses the top of my head and lifts my chin so I look directly into his charcoal eyes, in which there is strange sort of glimmer.  
  
I play along as a fianceé should and smile up at him, gently touching my hand to his white-blonde hair.  
  
Suddenly but gently, he forces me to lie down on the bed; leans over, placing a hand on either side of me; and says quietly in a husky whisper, "What do you say, darling?"  
  
A tremor of disgust forces me to shudder slightly again, but his smile just widens. Lowering his face to the skin on my chest which is exposed in my low-cut blouse, I feel his lips gently caress my skin, and a warm wetness tells me that his tongue also made contact. Biting my bottom lip, I close my eyes and try to imagine that Draco is the redhead in my vision, that the redhead is undoing the top buttons of my blouse, that the redhead's hands are running the length of my body, that the redhead is beginning to make love to me.  
  
But I can't.  
  
Pushing Draco off of me with all my strength, I jump up and run to my bathroom, locking the door behind me. Leaning my back against the door, I slide to the tiled floor, crying and trying to rebutton my blouse with shaky hands. I look down at the ring, and the vision I had earlier returns, but with more details and clarity.  
  
I was sitting before a grand lake at nighttime with the moon reflected in the still water. Small, twinkling lights danced in the trees, and I heard a soft melody.  
  
Looking to my left, I beheld the redhead, but I saw more than just his red hair this time. Freckles dusted his handsome face, and his brilliant blue eyes were darting every which way but into mine. For reasons unknown to the me sitting on the bathroom floor, this frustrated me.  
  
I placed my hand on his wringing hands and he stopped, looking up at me. "Ron," I said, "I've never seen you so nervous. What's the matter?"  
  
'Ron?' I think to myself. 'So his name is Ron.'  
  
He took my hands in his and began talking. "Most men start these kind of speeches with, 'From the first time I saw you, I knew I loved you,' or something cliché like that. But it would be a lie if I said that. From the first time I met you, you angered me, provoked me, infuriated me, annoyed me more than other human being, including my family and at times, even more than Malfoy."   
  
'Malfoy? Draco? How does he know Draco?'  
  
His nervousness suddenly disappeared as he gazed intently into my eyes. "But you also make me feel the most wonderful, most fulfilled, most satisfied, most complete. When I'm with you, I forget all my troubles, all my worries, all the darkness in my life. You are my light, my life, my love."  
  
He pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it.   
  
But I don't see what's inside it, as at that moment, Draco begins banging on the door.  
  
"Hermione! Hermione, get out here now! What's your problem? *Alohomora!*" He growls exasperatedly, and I hear him stomp away.  
  
As soon as I'm sure he's gone, I rise from the bathroom floor and reenter my room, after locking the door and positioning a chair underneath the knob. Sitting back down on my bed, I gaze down at the ring again.  
  
'What was in that box? And what does "Alohomora" mean?' 


	13. Chapter 13: Picture

Chapter 13: Picture  
  
-R-  
  
After buying Bianca a few drinks, she asks to go back to my house. Being buzzed myself, I agree, and we Apparate into my room. I lock the door and place a sound-proofing charm on the walls.   
  
Just in case.  
  
As she takes a seat on my bed, I notice that the picture of Hermione and me is still on the floor. Coming back to my senses briefly, I feel terrible at having another girl in my room. It's so painful to be looking at Hermione, while Bianca is over there, waiting for me. And I know what she has in mind for us tonight. I hurriedly pick of the picture and restored frame and slide it into a drawer in my wardrobe. Then I turn back to Bianca.  
  
She's smiling and eyeing me, motioning me over with her index finger. Then she pats the space beside her. I walk over and sit down, trying to keep my mind from Hermione.  
  
'Look what she did to you, Ron! How can you still have feelings for her?'  
  
'I loved her, all right? She was my world.'  
  
'"Was" is the key word there, mate. Hermione is the past. Get on with your life!'  
  
'I can't! I can't do this!'  
  
'Look at the beautiful witch beside you; look at how she's looking at you; look at her body language! Then tell me you can't.'  
  
I look over at Bianca and she is twirling a lock of her hair in her fingers, waiting for me to say something.  
  
"Um . . ." I start, lowering my eyes.  
  
'That was smooth!'  
  
"I . . . I'm kinda new at this. I'm not sure what to do now." I turn bright red at this and peek a glance at her, expecting her to laugh and get up to leave.  
  
But she doesn't. Instead, she smiles again and puts her hands on my hands. "Then let me lead."  
  
I swallow at the lump in my throat and nod once.   
  
Still holding my hands, she lays back onto the bed, pulling me down beside her. She raises my hands to her face, pressing them against her skin, running them through her hair. Then she places them on her waist. Leaning over, she brushes her lips against my cheek and neck, kissing and poking out her tongue sensually every so often. She begins to raise my hands to her chest, releasing them to allow me to continue on my own. I close my eyes and bite my bottom lip. I try to imagine that this beautiful Aussie in front of me is Hermione, that Hermione is kissing me all over my face, that Hermione's breasts are just inches from my hands, that Hermione's body is arched up against mine.  
  
But I can't.  
  
Just as I feel the beginning of a curve in Bianca's chest, I open my eyes and jerk my hands away. Rolling over before I can see the shock that must be all over her face, I put my large feet over the opposite side of the bed and put my elbows on my thighs, burying my face in my hands as the tears begin to fall.  
  
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I can't. I thought I could, but I can't. I can't forget her. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. . . ." I weep as she shifts on the bed, coming over to sit next to me. She places a gentle hand on my arm and I gasp, looking up.  
  
She's smiling empathetically. "There's a girl you love."  
  
I nod and begin apologizing again.  
  
"Don't apologize. It's my fault. I'm sorry for forcing you when you are so obviously nursing a broken heart." She rises from the bed. "I should be leaving now. Thanks for the drinks, R-Ron. It was nice meeting you."  
  
With that, she Disapparates, leaving me with my emotions.  
  
'Why couldn't I just do it? It would have taken my mind from Hermione. Hell, I wouldn't have been a virgin anymore. . . . That's just it. If I couldn't do it with Hermione before marriage, how could I expect to be able to with a perfect stranger? I am such an idiot!'  
  
I throw myself back onto my bed and stare up at my ceiling, thinking about another time I was another girl who wasn't Hermione.  
  
*Flashback*  
  
Parvati Patil and I began going out when she asked me after Divination, our last class of the day, a few months into our fifth year. Since she was gorgeous and Hermione seemed to be taking no interest in me that way, I agreed. Immediately, she was attached to me at the hip, with her arms always wrapped around me.   
  
That night in the common room, after a walk around the lake that Parvati had insisted on, I saw Hermione and Harry for the first time since Divination. As usual, Hermione had her nose stuck in a book and Harry was cleaning his Firebolt with his broomstick cleaning kit. Parvati and I, still a tangle of arms, sat down on the sofa next to Harry. He looked up at us and cocked an eyebrow at me, asking for a explanation.  
  
Just as I opened my mouth to answer, Parvati spoke up, quite loudly. "Why, Harry! Ron and I are going out!"  
  
I stole a glance at Hermione, whose eyes flicked up at us briefly. I saw something in them, a look of regret or jealousy. But I had no time to ponder it, as Parvati had just planted a kiss on my cheek, causing Hermione's eyes to harden and return to her book. Wanting desperately to talk to her, I rose from the sofa, but Parvati pulled on my arm.  
  
"Where are you going, Ron? Don't you want to be with me?"   
  
Torn, I looked between her and Hermione, whose eyes were now glued to the page, unmoving, as if she was listening for my answer.  
  
'What use would it be to piss off Parvati as well as Hermione? She'll get over it.'  
  
I sat back down next to Parvati, who again wrapped her arms around my stomach and kissed me on the cheek. "Good Ron!" she said teasingly, as if speaking to a dog. Then she patted me on the head. I forced a smile to my face and glanced at Hermione again.  
  
But the chair she had occupied was empty.  
  
Hermione didn't speak to me for two weeks after that night, and I had no idea why. What had I done this time? I tried to talk to Harry about it, but Parvati went everywhere I did, so I couldn't get just the two of us alone, when we were both at least semi-awake. A week before Christmas break, I couldn't stand it anymore, so I shook off Parvati somehow and went to find Hermione.  
  
She was in the library, as expected.  
  
I sat down across from her, barely visible above the tall stack of books on the table. She looked over the top of the book she was reading and silently asked me what I wanted with her glare.  
  
Scooting over the stack of books so I could see her properly, I told myself that I wouldn't lose my temper.  
  
"Look, Hermione, I don't know why you're upset at me this time, and it's driving me mad. What have I done this time?"  
  
She threw down her book and stood up. "Well, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" And she stormed off toward the door of the library. I intercepted her, grabbed her arm, and turned her around, forcing her to face me.  
  
"Hermione, don't do this. We've been through too much togeth--"  
  
"I don't need to hear this from you! You must have a very warped sense of judgment to . . . to . . ."  
  
"To what?" I asked quietly.  
  
'She's so cute when she's angry.'  
  
She yanked her arm from my grip, tears shining in her fiery eyes. "To traipse around with that bimbo!"  
  
With that, she ran from the library, leaving me dumbstruck.  
  
*End Flashback*  
  
About fifteen minutes after Bianca left, there's a soft knock at my door. Quickly drying my eyes with a charm, I call, "Who is it?"  
  
The door opens slowly and Ginny's face peers around the edge. Her eyes are red, as if she too has been crying. "Can I come in?" Her voice is strained, but soft.  
  
I nod and she enters, closing the door behind her. She stands, hands folded in front of her, head hanging slightly.  
  
Forgetting my own problems, I ask worriedly, "What's the matter, Gin? Come here, sit down."  
  
She sniffs and walks over, sitting gingerly beside me on the bed. Then she begins to weep. I put my arm around her and hold her while she cries, rocking her gently. She grasps the front of my robes tightly with both her hands and cries into my chest. I disregard the wet spot forming there.  
  
'What on earth could be wrong with her?'  
  
When she's seemingly cried herself out, she sniffles and pulls back, looking up at me with shining eyes. "Have you heard from Harry?" she asks almost inaudibly.  
  
'Of course! She still fancies Harry. Why didn't I think of that?' "No, not since we parted on the platform. But Dad says he's all right, so --"  
  
"Dad hasn't heard from him either!" she screams, standing up and pacing the room. "He just said that to keep us from worrying. I heard him telling Mum that no owls have come from him in two months. I'm frightened, Ron! What is something happened to him? What if he's injured or sick or . . . or . . . dead . . ." She whispers the last word and tears fill her eyes again.  
  
"Not meaning to sound rude," I say, standing and carefully approaching her, "but why does it matter so much to you? I mean, he never seemed --"  
  
"Because, Ron," she whispers, slowly bringing her eyes up to mine, "he kissed me last year."  
  
I stare at her, shocked at this news. 'He kissed my baby sister? When? Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't *he* tell me?'  
  
"I know what you're thinking, Ron. And it's because we both knew you'd go berserk. I can tell you're fighting to keep it in right now, so I guess we were right . . ." She sat down on the bed again and buried her face in her hands, sighing deeply. "I'm so frightened," she whispers.  
  
Overcoming my shock, I sit down beside her and put my arm around her again. "I'm sure he's fine," I say lamely, not knowing what else to say. Then, trying to cheer her up, I say, "Tell me about when he kissed you."  
  
She lifts her head and gazes at me questioningly. "You really want to know." It isn't a question.  
  
"Yeah. It was, after all, my baby sister's first kiss, and it was, after all, with the bloke she's been dreaming about for seven years."  
  
I delight at the small smile that touches her lips. She then says, "All right, but you can't interrupt or pull any faces."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"All right. As I said, it was last year, just before the Quidditch House Cup finals. I was sitting in the stands with Hermione when I saw Harry rushing up from the field to where we sat. Thinking something was wrong, Hermione and I both stood up and met him halfway.  
  
"'What's the matter?' Hermione asked, grabbing his shoulders. 'Is Ron okay? Can he still play?'  
  
"'Ron's fine,' he said, then turned his attention to me. 'Actually, I wanted to talk to Ginny.'  
  
"Feeling myself blushing, I nodded and threw a meaningful glance at Hermione, who waggled her eyebrows suggestively. I laughed and followed Harry around the back of the stands, where we had some privacy."  
  
A protest rises in the back of my throat, but I fight it back. Ginny sees this, but continues.  
  
"'What's is it, Harry?' I asked when we came to a stop.  
  
"His eyes darted around nervously as he played with the strap on his glove. I noticed how good he looked in his Quidditch uniform, and not for the first time.  
  
"When he finally talked, his brilliant green eyes met mine unwaveringly. 'Ginny, I just wanted to say that . . . well . . . I'm not really sure how to say it, so . . .' He took my hands and leaned down, brushing his lips against mine. My heart began beating wildly and I felt light-headed and dizzy. All too soon, he pulled away, blushing a deep red.  
  
"'Thanks,' he whispered hoarsely, smiling. He turned and lead me back up to my seat, still holding my hand. Once I was seated, he ran down onto the field where the other players were already assembling. And as he mounted his broom, he threw me a wink."  
  
As she finishes, she lowers her head again and stands to leave.  
  
"He will return, Ginny," I say as she reaches for the doorknob. She turns. "I'm sure of it." I smile reassuringly.  
  
"And I know that things with you and Hermione will work out," she says, returning the smile and exiting my room.  
  
'So, Harry and Ginny,' I think to myself. 'I'm not quite sure how I feel about that. . . ." 


	14. Chapter 14: Death of Malfoy

Chapter 14: Death of Malfoy  
  
-H-  
  
As I sit in this dank little pub, waiting for an official from the country's Ministry of Magic, I drum my fingers on my glass, thinking about how I got here.  
  
After departing from platform nine-and-three-quarters, I reported to the Ministry of Magic in London. There, I was given instructions from Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, to travel immediately to Ireland, where there was suspected Death Eater activity. Even though Voldemort is dead, there are still those Dark Wizards out there who strive to continue his work. Once in Ireland, I helped the Aurors there rid the country of all the Death Eaters.   
  
Then I was sent an owl to be in this pub today for further instructions regarding a new Death Eater plot that the Ministry has gotten wind of. They wouldn't tell me anything more than it involves people I know. Right now, I'm hoping against hope that it isn't the Grangers or the Weasleys. I couldn't imagine what I would do without Hermione, or Ron, or Ginny . . .   
  
Ginny. Little Ginny has grown up so much since the first time I saw her, when she was only ten. Almost all through our shared time at Hogwarts, I saw her as Ron's little sister, the baby of the Weasley family. Of course, I knew that she had fancied me for years. At first, I figured that it was just because of my fame, but then we came to know each other better, and I realized that she no longer saw me only as the "Boy-Who-Lived." She saw me as Harry, just Harry. In my seventh year, after she, Ron, Hermione, and I had fought together against the Dark Side time after time, I began to see her in a new light.  
  
Against my better judgment, even knowing that Voldemort and all his supporters were trying to kill me, I began to grow quite attracted to the fiery redhead. She made me feel as no other girl had ever made me feel. Every time I thought of her, I felt a fluttering in my stomach and I smiled in spite of myself. But I knew that I couldn't try to start a relationship with her, for fear that she would become a target of those Dark Wizards who were after me. So I had to settle with just kissing her once before the Quidditch finals.  
  
Not only was it Ginny that made leaving all those I love so difficult. I had gotten a personal invitation from the captain of the Chudley Cannons to come to try-outs during the summer. After being selected for the Gryffindor House Quidditch team in my first year, I fell in love with the sport and wanted nothing more than to play it professionally when I finished with school. But what with all the Dark Arts always lurking just around the corner for me, I never expected that dream to come true.  
  
Now that Voldemort is gone, I hope to finally make that dream come true, and that I can verbally express my feelings to Ginny, without having to fear as much for her safety . . .   
  
"Top o' the mornin' to ya, Potter. Thank ya for joinin' me on such short notice." The old wizard with a heavy Irish accent snaps me from my reverie. I stand and shake hands with him as he introduces himself as Riley McTiernan. He motions for me to sit again as he settles into his chair, sighing heavily and folding his hands on the table. After he orders himself a drink, he begins business.  
  
"So, you have been informed only that this plot involves Death Eaters an' people you know, am I right?"  
  
"Yes, sir. That's right."  
  
He nods his silvery head and says, "Well, I suppose I should relate the rest to ya then. I'm sure you've been havin' kittens wonderin' who it could be." He laughs briefly, but it's a tired, almost forced laugh. "Well, as you know, Potter, the Malfoys are a very prestigious an' influential in the wizardin' world, even though many suspect 'em of havin' had a part in the rise o' the Dark Lord. However they were acquited o' the charges, due to lack of evidence. Well, as you can imagine, their lack o' punishment angers those 'faithful' Death Eaters who are now in Azkaban, an' even those who aren't."  
  
"So, what are you saying? That the Death Eaters are planning to kill the Malfoys? What does this have to do with me? I'd *rather* they died, quite frankly."  
  
"Aye, I understand, laddie. But that's not all. Also intwined in this complicated web are the Grangers. Now, we don't know exactly if they're plottin' *with* the Malfoys or are the ones plotted *against.* That's what we need you to figure out. Once you have, you are to take the culprits straight to Azkaban."  
  
I nod. "Yes sir. I will return to England immediately and deal with the Malfoys." I stand, pay for my drink, and Disapparate.  
  
~H~  
  
Three days after my second vision, I overhear Draco talking to someone in the sitting room. I stand on the stairs and listen.  
  
". . . as planned. The parents are both Stunned, so I'm heading to Knockturn Alley. I'll owl you later, Dad."  
  
'Stunned? Nocturnally? Owl? Must be some kind of code.'  
  
I hear footsteps coming toward the stairs, so I quietly hurry back up to my room, close the door, and throw myself on my bed, pretending to be napping. A few moments later, there is a sharp knock at my door.  
  
"I'm leaving for a little while. I'm locking you inside the house, just to make sure you don't misbehave." Then he utters some words under his breath, followed by his retreating footsteps back down the stairs and the opening and closing of our front door.   
  
About fifteen minuteds later, I exit my room to find some food. After satisfying my rumbling stomach, as I turn back toward the stairs, I look down the hallway toward Mum and Dad's room. Having not seen Dad in a while because Mum says he's been ill, I decide that I'll go peek in on him.   
  
I knock gently on the closed door. Not hearing any response, I open the door and peek inside, gasping at what I see.  
  
Mum and Dad are on the bed, but I can tell immediately that they aren't asleep or dead. Dad looks horrible, but not as if he's been ill. They are both terribly thin and pale, with dark circles under their eyes. I hurry toward them, tripping on something on the floor. Looking down, I see a huge, open trunk, with a large collection of odd-looking things inside: dark robes, a pointed black hat, and moldy books with titles such as "Gadding with Ghouls" and "Travels with Trolls," both by someone named Gilderoy Lockhart. Though the name rings a terrible bell, I shake it off and hurry over to Mum and Dad.  
  
"Mum! Dad! Wake up, please! It's Hermione! Please, wake up. Mum! Dad!" My first instinct is to call 911, but something inside me tells me that that would do no good. Not knowing what else to do, I go back to that trunk and dig through it, hoping that something in it might help. Along with the robes, pointed hat, and the books, I find a stack of periodicals, all with the title "Daily Prophet." I pull one out and read the headline, "HOGWARTS HEAD GOVERNOR'S SON TO WED BEST FRIEND OF INFAMOUS HARRY POTTER." The accompanying picture is one of Draco, his parents, and me, but strangest of all is that the picture is moving!   
  
'Something's going on here . . .'  
  
I read the article beneath the picture, catching strangely familiar phrases.  
  
". . . the esteemed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry . . . a pretty Gryffindor . . . Coming from a long line of wizards . . . best friend of Harry Potter . . . the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named . . ."  
  
"What is going *on* here?" I say aloud, not expecting the very familiar voice that I hear behind me that answers by calling my name.  
  
-H-  
  
Once back in England, I go immediately to the Grangers' house, sure that that is where I'll find Malfoy. Sure enough, through the window, I see that he's in the sitting room talking to Lucius Malfoy's head which is suspended in the fireplace.  
  
"How are things, Draco?" Lucius's head says in his oily voice.  
  
"I just refreshed the Imperius Curse on the woman, and Hermione's Memory Charm is still working quite well. She still knows nothing about the past seven years, especially that bloody Weasley. And she still believes that we are to be wed. Over all, things are going well, just as planned. The parents are both Stunned, so I'm heading to Knockturn Alley. I'll owl you later, Dad."  
  
With that, he disappears momentarily up the stairs then descends again. Throwing my Invisibility Cloak over myself, I watch him exit the house and enchant it so no one can get in or out. Then he Disapparates, and I follow.  
  
When I appear on the grungy cobblestone road, I glance around for Malfoy, finding him walking briskly down the road and disappearing inside a building to the left. I follow, careful not to tread on anyone's feet, and enter the building after him. Inside, I find Knockturn Alley's equivalent of Diagon Alley's Leaky Cauldron; the dark, dirty little bar is filled with sinister-looking witches and wizards wearing grubby robes and donning greasy black hair, their beaty eyes looking down their long, crooked noses.  
  
Disregarding the odor, I creep up behind Malfoy to listen to his conversation with the short, stout barkeep.  
  
". . . as Dad says. The dolts at the Ministry still don't see that soon another, more powerful Dark Wizard will rise, and what with our connections with the Dementors and the giants and the goblins, they will be vastly outnumbered."  
  
At this, the barkeep grins, revealing his missing teeth. "Thanks for the update, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"It's nothing, Avery. Good day." He tips his hat then turns around, exiting the bar. As we come to a more open place, I notice that many wicked-looking, hooded wizards are suddenly eyeing Malfoy as he strides importantly through the alley.   
  
'These must be the bitter Death Eaters. If Malfoy doesn't deflate his head soon, he's history. . . .'  
  
But of course, he doesn't come off of his high horse; he's pulled from it violently when a pair of the grubby wizards grab both his arms as another points his wand at Malfoy and screeches, "*Petrificus Totalus!*" Malfoy is frozen as the wizards release him, allowing him to thud sickeningly barely a few meters from where I stand. The wizard who performed the charm siddles up to Malfoy and lowers his hood. His resemblance to Goyle tells me that this must be his father.  
  
"So, if it isn't Draco bloody Malfoy, strolling through Knockturn Alley as if he owns the place. Then again, we all know where his true loyalties lie: with those who can offer him the most money."  
  
This elicits harsh laughter from the assembled Death Eaters.  
  
"We don't take too kindly to your kind of turn-coat riff-raff around here, Malfoy. You and your over-pompous father have betrayed Lord Voldemort for the last time! *Avada Kedavra!*"  
  
A flash of green light, and Malfoy lays dead at my feet. The Death Eaters turn to scurry off, but I act quickly and Stun them before they can escape. Placing my Invisibility Cloak back in my utility belt, I place a Levitation Charm on them and lead them from the gathering crowd. I'll come back for Malfoy, if he's still here when I return.  
  
Once in Diagon Alley, I hover the Stunned Death Eaters up the street toward the Shrieking Shack, where there's room for me to Disapparate with my load. Removing the Levitation Charm, I bind them all with rope from the end of my wand and Disapparate.  
  
Seconds later, I'm standing outside the fortress of Azkaban. I flash my identification to the guards and explain my business. They allow me to pass and I take the Death Eaters inside, leaving them with the first guards I find so I can go find Sirius, who recently acquired the top position at the wizard prison.  
  
When he sees me, he drops all proper behavior and envelops me in a hug that would make me think that his Animagus form was a bear if I didn't know better.  
  
"Harry! Where the bloody *hell* have you been, boy?" he says into the crook of my neck, his whiskers tickling the skin just below my chin.  
  
I pull myself from the embrace and explain quickly where I've been the past four months. Then I tell him about the happenings in Knockturn Alley.  
  
"Serves the bugger right," he growls. "You say they're downstairs?"  
  
"Yes, and they should be coming to soon, so we should get them into their cells."  
  
Sirius nods once and barks to the guards to do so.  
  
"So, sit down, Harry, tell me about --"  
  
"Sirius, I really should go check on Hermione and her parents. I'm sorry, but I'll come back as soon as I'm done and stay up all night talking to you if you want."  
  
"Oh, all right then. But come to Remus'. That's where I'm staying." The slightest of a pinkish tint colors his cheeks.  
  
"No need to be embarrassed, Sirius. I already surmised as much."  
  
As the shock dawns on his face, I smile and Disapparate to the Burrow to pick up Ron before going back to Bristol. I'm sure that he will want to be there. 


	15. Chapter 15: Please, Remember Me

Chapter 15: Please, Remember Me  
  
-R-  
  
When Harry appears in my room, I think I am still asleep and dreaming. But when I throw a pillow at him and he throws it back, hitting me square in the face, I jump up and embrace him.  
  
"Harry! You bugger, where the bloody *hell* have you been?"  
  
"I seem to be generating that reaction from a lot of people today. But look, Ron, there's something I really need to tell you. It's about Hermione --"  
  
I pull back, feeling that dull anger that hits me everytime her name is mentioned. "I already heard, first-hand."  
  
"Oh no, Ron. It's not what you think. She didn't reject you like that letter said."  
  
"How do you know --?"  
  
"It's not important. What *is* important is that Mrs. Granger was under the Imperius Curse, before Malfoy died which was just under an hour ago. And Dr. Granger is Stunned. And Malfoy put a Memory Charm on Hermione to make her forget all about being a witch and which also made her think that she was his fianceé. Now, we need to go and check up on them."  
  
Harry barely gets all this out before I throw on a cloak over my blazing orange Chudley Cannons jumper and Disapparate.  
  
When I arrive on the Granger's front lawn, I dash up to the house and throw open the front door. Harry Apparates right behind me and grabs me by the back of my cloak, causing me to wheel on him sharply.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Ron! You can't just barge in there like that! You know that breaking a Memory Charm like the one that Malfoy no doubtedly put on her could damage her mind. It has to be slow."  
  
Tears prick my eyes. "Harry, you have no idea how I've longed to hold her, to touch her, to gaze into her eyes. It's agony to be in the same house as her, knowing she might not remember me. I have to see her. I just have to." With that, I pull out of my cloak, leaving it dangling in Harry's hand, and go to Hermione's parents' room; instinct tells me that's where she is.  
  
She's kneeling in front of a trunk full of wizard paraphrenalia, holding a copy of the "Daily Prophet."  
  
"What is going *on* here?" she says.  
  
I can hold my silence no longer.  
  
'Please, remember me.'  
  
"Hermione?" I say quietly, fighting the urge to run over to her and take her into my arms.  
  
She turns around and drops the newspaper in her hand.  
  
-H-  
  
After I Disapparate from the Grangers', I reappear back in the Burrow. I have to see Ginny.   
  
I owe her an explanation.  
  
*Flashback*  
  
Before boarding the Hogwarts Express the day after the graduation ceremony, I caught up with Ginny, to tell her goodbye.  
  
Despite our newfound feelings for each other, she seemed shy as she folded and unfolded her hands in front of her. I took them in my hands and she looked up at me, smiling.  
  
"So, you'll come to the Burrow this summer, won't you?"  
  
I couldn't bring myself to wipe that smile her face, so I just hugged her, hoping that time would freeze so I'd never have to leave her. Of course, that didn't happen.  
  
When I eventually pulled away, I decided that I couldn't avoid it any longer.  
  
"Look, Ginny, I . . ." I faltered.  
  
'"I have secret work for the Ministry. I don't know where I'll end up or how long I'll be gone. But I'll think of you, because I love you and I always will." Come on, Harry! You can say that!'  
  
"Oy, Harry! Come on!" Ron called to me as the train began to let off steam, signaling that it was almost time to go.  
  
Looking back to Ginny, I tried not to look into her curious expression. "What is it, Harry? You can tell me, whatever it is."  
  
"I . . . I . . . gotta go." Picking up my bags and planting a short kiss on her cheek, I turned and boarded the train.  
  
I purposefully avoided the compartment window, knowing that if I saw her face, I'd crack and not be able to do what I knew I must for the Ministry.   
  
*End Flashback*  
  
When I enter the sitting room, I find her curled up with a copy of the "Daily Prophet." The headline reads, "HARRY POTTER, QUIDDITCH STAR EXTRAORDINARE, TOP CHOICE FOR OPEN SEEKER POSITION FOR CANNONS." The accompanying picture is of me in seventh year, sitting on the shoulders of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, holding up the Quidditch House Cup. A surge of guilt runs through me and I consider turning from the room and leaving. But just then, she stirs and opens her eyes, which widen at the sight of me.  
  
"Harry," she whispers, throwing aside the newspaper and jumping from the armchair. She launches herself into my arms and starts to cry into the crook of my neck.  
  
I don't deserve this; I don't deserve her. I left without so much as a "Don't worry about me." I broke her heart, and she's forgiven me, forgotten that I left her for months without an explanation.  
  
"Ginny, please, let me explain. Please, I don't deserve --"  
  
She silences me by grabbing my face and boring into me with her brown eyes. "Shut up, Harry." Then she pulls down my face and presses her lips against mine fiercely.  
  
Once I get past the initial shock of her action, I pull away, causing her to look up at me, hurt. "What's the matter, Harry? Don't you want --?"  
  
"Ginny, please, listen to me. I don't deserve to be forgiven, not after how I treated you. I don't deserve you."  
  
Her eyes soften immediately. "Oh, Harry, is that how you feel? I don't care where you were, or that you were gone for months without one owl. All that matters to me is that you're here now, that you're not ill or hurt or . . ." Tears glisten in her eyes again as she lowers her head. "I was so afraid that you might be dead, Harry. But you're here." She places her hands on my chest, brings them over my shoulders, down my arms, and takes my hands. "That's all that matters to me now," she whispers, then lets out a short laugh, looking back to me. "Stop being so bloody noble and kiss me!"  
  
I can't help but smile at that. Taking her into my arms, I lift her from the ground and twirl around, landing on the sofa. Ginny is on top of me, and the both of us are laughing. Red curls have fallen in her face, so I reach up and place them back behind her ears, leaving my hand on the back of her head. Her eyes search mine as her smile fades and her breath begins to quicken.   
  
"Ginny, I missed you," I say quietly, pulling her to me.  
  
She squeezes me. "Never leave again."  
  
"Never." And I know that I speak the truth.  
  
~H~  
  
'The redhead! It's the redhead! He *does* exist!'  
  
Following what something inside me says, I stand and run toward him, jumping into his arms and holding on for dear life. As soon as we touch, my left ring finger tingles and I feel as if a wall in my mind has disintegrated, allowing a flood of old emotions and memories to inundate my mind.   
  
"Ron . . ." I whisper into his neck, squeezing him tighter. "Oh, Ron . . ."  
  
His arms wrap around my back as he kisses the top of my head, my cheek, my neck repeatedly. Lifting my chin, he gazes into my eyes and kisses me.  
  
It's unlike any feeling I've ever felt.  
  
There is such raw, unbridled passion in the kiss. It's like our first kiss all over again as his lips reintroduce themselves to mine and his tongue searches out my own. My cheeks are flushed and I'm sweating with our combined body heat, but I don't know anything or anyone but Ron.  
  
When we pull away, I can't look at anything but him.  
  
"Oh, Ron, I'm so sorr--"  
  
He places his finger on my lips.  
  
"Don't," he says hoarsely. "Harry explained it all to me." His eyes well up and he closes them, squeezing out a tear. Then he opens them again and gazes at me. I wipe away the tear and embrace him again.  
  
Someone clears his throat behind Ron, and I see Harry standing there, quite red. I run over to embrace him also, and by now tears are streaming freely down my face.  
  
"Oh, Harry!" is all I can say.  
  
"Um, I should probably leave you two alone. I, um, have somewhere I need to go anyway." He pulls away and smiles at me.  
  
"Thank you," I whisper. "Thank you so much."  
  
Blushing deeper, he says, "Don't thank me. Thank the Death Eaters; they killed Malfoy after all." Then he Disapparates.  
  
Turning back to Ron, puzzled, I ask him what that was about.  
  
Just as he's about to explain, there's a groaning inside of Mum and Dad's room. Rushing past Ron, I see that they are coming to; they were obviously Stunned. When they see me, they smile weakly. I jump onto the bed and pull them each into a one-armed hug at the same time. Then they put their arms around me and each other.  
  
Ron enters the room gingerly, keeping a watchful eye on Mum.  
  
I smile and invite him into the embrace. When Mum nods, he climbs onto the bed and my parents put my arms around him.  
  
"Welcome to the family, Ron," Mum says.   
  
He positively beams at me.  
  
THE END 


	16. Author's Desperate Plea!

Author's Notes  
  
I am currently in the middle of writing a sequel for this story, seeing as how it was SO well received. . . . I'm hoping I can write something that gets at least 20 reviews, not counting those I might post myself. Please, people, if you read this and liked it, review and tell me so. Or even if you read it and didn't like it. I'm getting kind of discouraged here. . . :(   
  
~Ari-Ana Zanne~  
  
P.S. Since you were so faithful and reviewing, Alli-Baby, this is not directed at you. Though I did think you would like to know that a sequel is currently in the making. Thank you for your comments! They were very much appreciated. 


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